


Sins of The Father

by Bitchslapthatboy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Andromeda Black is a FUCKING TREASURE, Angst with a Happy Ending, Antonin Dolohov has my heart, Azkaban is fucking freezing, BAMF Charlie Weasley, BAMF Women, Bad Albus Dumbledore, Dark Albus Dumbledore, Death Eaters, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Evil Albus Dumbledore, F/M, Fluff, Good Weasley Family (Harry Potter), Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kingsley Shacklebolt has a dark side, M/M, Mad Eye Moody has a heart, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Nymphadora Tonks Lives, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Parenthood, Pet Names, Post-War, Remus Lupin & Nymphadora Tonks Live, Remus Lupin Lives, Remus Lupin is So Done, Russian Pet Names, Single Parents, Slow Burn, Smut, Thorfinn Rowle is a precious lil baby that deserves all of the love and affection, Thorfinn and Charlie and Nymphadora and Evie are the original sequel to the marauders, Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 91,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23138221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitchslapthatboy/pseuds/Bitchslapthatboy
Summary: Evangeline Rosier has lived much longer than she was ever supposed to. Had Voldemort gotten his way, she'd be buried in the graves next to her parents. Now that the war is over and the wizarding world is healing, she could do anything with her family's name and wealth at her fingertips. But all that she truly wants to do is raise the little boy who's completely stolen her heart. The only problem? He's the son of Antonin Dolohov. Required by law to get his permission, Evie must gather up the courage to face the man who stole everything from her. A tale of love and loss and two bitter enemies eventually finding their place together in a chaotic and confusing world of forgiveness.**** attempts will be made at weekly updates ****
Relationships: Antonin Dolohov/Original Female Character(s), Charlie Weasley/Thorfinn Rowle, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 114
Kudos: 123
Collections: R's Favourites, R's HP





	1. The Words She Knows, The Tune She Hums

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I was going to go in this direction with Let The Sunlight In but eventually decided against it. With that decision, I had several chapters worth of writing that I loved and wanted to use and no where to put it. So Sins of The Father was born. I'm still feeling out where I'm wanting to go with this story, but I do plan on it being more of a slow burn with lots of baggage between the two leads (aka the complete and total opposite of Let The Sunlight In). But regardless, there will also be a shit ton of fluff to balance out the darkness. 
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did I'd be buying my friends houses and jetting off to Paris at a moments notice for breakfast by the Seine. Also, per usual, this is not betaed. All mistakes are my own and I take full responsibility for them. If you see any mistakes please let me know and I will (probably) fix them.
> 
> P.S. Evangeline Rosier is a character of mine that I've created and used in other stories. If you like her in this, I highly encourage you to check out my other fics with her in it (She's a total and complete badass and everything I one day hope to be).

Evangeline Rosier had always had a rebellious streak. Growing up as the best friend to Charlie Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks, and Thorfinn Rowle, she couldn’t not have one. Before the Weasley twins made their appearance at Hogwarts, they’d been the troublemakers in the school. The twins had learned from the best, after all. Granted, their little group was smart enough not to take credit until after graduation. They were much better secret keepers, truth be told. But regardless of the fact, Evangeline Rosier had always had a well-hidden rebellious streak. That an unwavering sense of loyalty. 

When Thorfinn ran off to join the Dark Lord following graduation, it had nearly broken her. She’d cried for days, mourning the friend who was giving up his life in service to the man who killed her parents. It hurt that much more, knowing that he knew just how evil the monster was. That he knew the lengths Voldemort would go to to establish his new world order. That he had witnessed the destruction and heartache the madman left in his wake and still decided to join up with the cause. Tonks had been right there with her mourning the loss of their friendship, as Charlie disappeared to Romania soon after, unable to cope with the betrayal of his very best friend. They’d relied on each other through everything, the four of them. But Charlie and Thorfinn had been as thick as thieves. They’d told each other everything, they’d had each other’s backs through thick and thin. They’d been closer than brothers, the two of them. Thorfinn had spent every holiday at The Burrow, he had been all but adopted into the Weasley brood when his own family demanded his life be given to Voldemort. Therefore his betrayal cut out the very heart of Charlie. 

And Tonks, Merlin help her, the girl had closed into herself, becoming tougher, darker as she pursued her auror training with a vengeance. She was determined to be the one to bring him back to the side of the light, and if he wouldn’t see reason, she promised to be the one to take him down. She swore it over and over again on the nights she returned to the flat she had shared with Evangeline, that she was going to make him realize his mistake. 

Evie had started writing for The Quibbler soon after graduating Hogwarts, loving the quirky vibe of Xenophilius’ magazine and adoring the time she spent with his young daughter on her breaks, searching the yard and forest for all sorts of magical creatures and painting pictures only limited by the girl’s impressive imagination. But as little Luna’s Hogwarts years approached, so did the darkness. It’d been lingering overhead for years, the return they’d all known and feared was coming. The three friends had joined up with The Order the moment they were asked and prayed to whatever gods that were listening that the day would never come. That they’d be forced to actually go to war.

When Harry Potter announced The Dark Lord’s revival following the end of The Triwizard Tournament, clutching the dead body of a boy barely old enough to fight and screaming the words that would haunt her forever, she didn’t hesitate to write an article supporting the bespeckled boy for the magazine she loved. At The Order meetings that followed, they’d been up in arms against the older members about allowing the kids in on the meeting. Even if the other members wouldn’t let them fight, a few of them had demanded that they should be allowed to hear of the dangers they were facing. _There’s power in knowledge_ , they had argued. None of them had hesitated to go toe to toe with Molly and Dumbledore, insisting that they deserved to know the truth of the matter. It was the one time that Sirius Black and Severus Snape had ever agreed on anything, pushing to tell young Harry the truth. 

When they’d battled the Death Eaters later that year in The Department of Mysteries, neither Evie nor Dora could hold in the tears as they were forced to face off with the man who they’d considered their greatest ally and confidante for so long. Thorfinn had fought with a vengeance, shooting deadly curses and jinxes their way as they fought to protect the children who’d been led into battle by a man who prefered to send children to fight in his place. Jumping in front of Hermione to block Antonin Dolohov’s silent curse was a sacrifice she’d been willing to make, but something she couldn’t help but secretly blame the old headmaster for every time she saw him. The raised pink scar on her belly served as a reminder of his cowardice and subterfuge every time she saw it. Thank merlin she was a good occlumens or else she would have been dead long before the war ended.

When the end of the war did finally come, she hadn’t hesitated to jump right into the fight. Joining up with The Order once more, she threw killing curses at the men who’d stolen her parents like they were minor jinxes. She and Charlie had fought back to back, as a single unit next to Dora and Remus. Barely deflecting killing curses that were thrown their way, and begging the new parents to go home to their child. They had refused, as their friends had expected, but promised to be more careful as they fought with renewed fury. 

As the Dark Lord fell and the remaining Death Eaters either fled or surrendered, she couldn’t help but look for Thorfinn. Wishing beyond all hope that her old friend had survived, despite his faults and betrayal. They locked eyes across the courtyard as he was cuffed by Kingsley Shacklebolt himself. A hint of an apology flashing through his eyes before it was replaced with the fiery fury he had become known for since the end of their friendship and the beginning of his service to the Dark Lord. When she found Dora and Charlie later they’d collapsed into each other’s embrace, the three of them crying for their friend and mourning all those they had lost. Dora and Remus returned home soon after to their baby boy, but Charlie had stuck around. The two of them leaning heavily on each other as they sat on the steps leading to the Gryffindor common room. 

“I was in love with him.” Charlie had admitted, his voice a quiet rumble of emotion as he revealed the secret he’d held close for so long.

“I know, Charlie.” Evie whispered, her heart breaking even further for her friend, as she wrapped an arm tightly around his waist and he finally shed the tears he’d held onto for years.

“He was my _everything_.” The man’s voice had broken then, the two of them dissolving into sobs for the child they’d once known. The kid who’d been led astray by the family that was supposed to protect him at all costs. 

It was then that Evie swore she’d never let another child grow up in the shadow of their family’s darkness. As they were sitting on the steps of the school that had been the first sanctuary their best friend had ever known, she swore it would never happen again. Not if she had anything to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some love if you like it.


	2. Oh Children, Lift Up Your Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today because the first one doesn't really count. I hope y'all enjoy it but if you don't, don't tell me because I'm a fucking baby with an inferiority complex that would not take internet criticism well.
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did, I wouldn't have to seriously consider traveling during the age of the coronavirus because of the cheap prices and I could just hole up in my private bunker until it was safe to use the private jet again. *sigh* a girl can dream.
> 
> No beta, obviously. Because no one in their right mind would let me post this with all of its mistakes. But it's nearly three in the morning so I don't give a flying fuck.

_ November 30th, 1998 _

Evangeline could barely contain her smile as she stepped into the floo and headed to her father’s estate after submitting her articles for review to Xeno. Following the end of the war with Voldemort and his followers, she’d offered her family estate up as a home for the orphans and displaced children of the Wizarding World. It was only the first step in a long road of recovery, but she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the world lift a little more as a child was adopted or reunited with family that loved them. 

Shrieks of excitement and shouts of “Hello” greeted her as she stumbled out of the fireplace and into the main living room.

“Evie!” Felicity, a precocious little two year old with the cutest little smile the world had ever seen exclaimed as she ran to greet the woman, squealing in delight as Evie lifted her into her arms and hugged her close before plopping her back on the floor.

“Hey kiddos.” Evie greeted them excitedly, as several other kids made their way over to her, talking animatedly about the past couple days, showing off their art projects and a couple of bumps and bruises from the older kids’ quidditch lessons with Harry and the twins on Sunday afternoon. Luna sat on the floor nearby, surrounded by art supplies, smiling serenely as the two women exchanged greetings and smiles, before standing to no doubt retrieve Molly from somewhere in the house. The kindly woman had latched onto the project from the moment Evie had introduced it and had been a supportive pillar of strength ever since, treating each child with all of the love and respect that they deserved and spending her days caring for the brood alongside other volunteers. Without her, there simply wouldn’t be a home for the children.

“Harry showed us how to catch the snitch!” Henry, a rough and tumble three year old with a slight penchant for trouble told her as he pointed to a bruise on his knee, “I almost caught it, but I fell off my broom.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it next time, kiddo.” She told him, smiling as she ruffled his dark blonde curls and leaned down to give him a cuddle, “Practice makes perfect, afterall.”

If there was anyone in the world who held her entire heart it was Henry. If the wizarding world didn’t have such archaic laws on adoption, she would have brought him home the moment she met him. He nodded enthusiastically at her encouragement before running off to retrieve his soccer ball, bringing it back over to sit on as Evie lowered herself to the floor and greeted the rest of the kids. There were only a few remaining from the previous forty-two, but Henry was the only one born of Voldemort’s inner circle and most sadistic followers. It broke Evie’s heart that children were often judged for their parents' mistakes, as if Henry had a say in who his father was. 

As the older boys, Tommy and Liam showed off all of the moves they’d learned on Sunday, Felicity and Bridgette presented her with their artwork they’d just created with Luna. Haven and Beau (as the youngest of the remaining children) were, no doubt already down for their afternoon nap in the nursery, something that the other children in the room would soon be joining them in. Henry soon ditched his soccer ball and climbed back into Evie’s arms, telling her all about his weekend and his new quidditch skills as she brushed her fingers through his hair and listened intently to every word he spoke.

The floo behind her signaled the arrival of Neville and Charlie, the two of them joining her for their turn at the manor, prompting a bunch of the kids to run to greet the two of them excitedly. Each of them chattered animatedly to the two men as they filled them in on their weekend and asked ridiculous questions about a million different things. The older boys soon moved back to the carpet where the toy quidditch pitch was set up and returned to their figurines’ game, cheering loudly each time one of their players scored a goal. Felicity had dragged Neville over to the craft table, showing off her pictures of flowers to the soon-to-be Herbology professor and watching him expectantly as he praised each and everyone of her drawings. Felicity and Bridgette had claimed their favorite baby dolls and were playing house on the far side of the room, making pretend tea in the play kitchen that had taken Charlie, Bill, & Remus half a day to assemble. Luna returned shortly with Molly each of them smiling widely as they said they visited with the newcomers and the children before handing over the magical baby monitor and saying their goodbyes.

At that point, the remaining adults helped the kids clean up before tucking them into their rooms for their own naptime and quiet time. Evie took care of the girls, leading them up to their shared room to get ready for naptime. Bridgette and Felicity went down easily in their respective beds, each of them clutching their teddy bears to their chests as their breathing evened out and they succumbed to sleep without a fight. Charlie and Neville handled the two older boys, getting them each situated on their respective bunks, with a book or two to keep them company for their quiet time. Usually they would also end up asleep shortly after quiet time started, but the adults had learned the hard way that it was easier to let the boys think they had the choice to stay up.

Henry, though, had always fought naptime. It wasn’t his fault, of course, he’d been tortured with the cruciatus curse by Voldemort and suffered from extreme nightmares because of it. It wasn’t unusual for Evie to be called in by whoever was on duty to coax the boy into sleep, most of the time she didn’t even attempt to get him to sleep on his own. Instead, she curled up next to him on his bed and pulled him close, cuddling the little boy to her chest as he fell into a fitful sleep. She couldn’t even count the number of times she’d ended up sleeping here instead of at home, with the little boy’s arms wrapped tightly around her neck. Hell, she barely slept on the rare nights she  _ wasn’t _ here, worried out of her mind for the little boy. If it wasn’t for Charlie & Dora forcibly removing her from the house, she’d probably never leave. It’d been one of her biggest fights with her friends, they’d been worried about how attached Henry was to her and that Evie wouldn’t survive it if he was adopted by anyone else and so they forced her to live her life outside of her shifts as if he didn’t exist.

When Neville appeared in the doorway a little while later, leaning against the frame and sighing heavily at the sight of the little boy’s whimpers and Evie’s silent tears, she gave him a small smile.

“Are you going to ask him?” He asked, his voice a low rumble across the dimly lit room as Henry cried out once more in his sleep.

Evie wrinkled her nose at the question, as she ran her fingers through the little boy’s dirty blond hair and whispered soothing words against his temple, wishing she could take it all away for him.

“Are you going to ask Dolohov if you can adopt him?” He amended, sending her a tired but sympathetic smile.

She paused, knowing that she should, and sighed in defeat, “I don’t know.” She admitted to the man who’d become a close friend in the last year or so, “It’s not like it would change anything.”

“He could say yes.” He offered, his expression unreadable in the shadow of the room.

“I doubt he will.” Evie told him, leaning heavily against the headboard as Henry sleepily climbed up her chest in an attempt to get even closer, She cuddled him tighter and pressed a kiss into his hair, “He’s always been a little on the insane side.”

“You just have to do what you think is best.” He replied, “You and I both know that no one else is going to step up for him.” He sighed heavily before collecting the monitor from the dresser by the door and heading back downstairs to hang with Charlie. 

She stewed over his words for a while, wishing there was something that she could do to fix the situation. She dozed off herself when Henry’s nightmares had finally subsided and his breathing had evened out, waking about an hour later to Charlie climbing into the bed next to her for a cuddle, like he had been known to do since they were children themselves.

“Neville told me what you two talked about.” He stated carefully, leaning against the headboard next to her.

She nodded, brushing her fingers through the dirty blond curls atop the little boy’s head, “I assumed he would.”

“So are you going to do it?” He asked, his voice even as he spoke.

“I am.” She decided, meeting his eyes as she looked up at him, “It’s a small price to pay for the good of this little one.”

And she would do  _ anything _ for her little one. That much they both knew. It had been a point of argument for the last few months among her friends, just how willing she was to drop everything if Henry needed anything. In nearly every capacity, he was her son. The only thing holding them back was the bloody adoption law that had banned single parent adoptions. But now that it had been overturned, all she needed was his father’s permission. A feat so daunting she was almost tempted to just gather up Henry and flee the country. In her soul, Evie knew that Antonin Dolohov would rather cut off his wand arm with a dull knife than let her, of all people raise his son. 

“He may surprise you, you know.” Charlie replied, “He might say yes.”

“He will say no.” She stated, refusing to let herself hope.

“You’ll never know until you ask.” He argued back at her, “You’ve got to stay positive. If it was me, I’d want my son to get all the love and care that he deserved.”

“I know you’re right.” Evie replied, hesitating before continuing on,“You know, it’s not even him that I truly worry about seeing there.”

Even without saying his name, the weight of it hung heavily between them. By all rights and purposes, she should be scared out of her mind of the man who’d come closest to killing her. She should be trembling in fear of sitting before him and asking for permission to raise his child, and in a way she was. But surpassing that fear was the possibility of seeing Thorfinn again. The fear of seeing him and not being able to hate him for everything he’d done was enough to keep her up at night. 

Charlie sighed, pulling her closer, “I figured as much.”

“What am I supposed to say to him?” “How am I supposed to walk past him and not acknowledge every single thing he did, every fucking crime he commited when he betrayed our friendship? How am I supposed to look at the face of the kid who we celebrated Christmases with and hate him for joining up with a psycho? I just want to hate him, Charlie. Why can’t I hate him?”

“You’re asking the wrong person, Evie.” Charlie replied, his voice gravelly with emotion as they were both caught up in the memories of the friendship they’d lost, “I’ve been asking myself the same question since the day he joined up.”

“What if it wasn’t his choice? What if he was imperiused?” She reasoned, wanting more than anything for it to all be a big mistake. For Thorfinn to walk out of prison as an innocent man.

“We both know that that’s not the case.” Charlie reminded her hollowly. 

“Sometimes I wish it was.” She whispered over the head of Henry, the little boy still sleeping comfortably in her embrace, “Sometimes I wish we’d all just run off to somewhere far away and waited out the war.”

“You and me both.” Charlie whispered back, “Sometimes I wish I’d just told him how I felt and refused to let him go.”

“Why didn’t you?” She blurted out, immediately regretting the question she’d posed, “I’m sorry, I mean I know why, but you were both so obviously in love with each other. I just wonder sometimes why you never acted on it?”

It was true, anyone who knew the two of them could see how desperately in love with each other they were. They could see how their friendship had grown and changed into something resembling only the greatest of love stories. It had seemed that everyone but the two of them had seen the love the two men had had for each other once upon a time.

“It’s my biggest regret.” He revealed, slumping further against the headboard and shifting to curl an arm around her, “I was a scared kid who fell in love with my best friend. I was terrified of losing him, you know? I was so scared that it would ruin everything. It was easier to be his best friend and love him from afar than to lose the only man I’d lay down my life for.”

“I’m sorry he left us.” She breathed into the darkness of the room, “I’m sorry he left you.”

“He was always going to.” Charlie admitted, “Deep down I think I knew that.”

“Maybe one day he’ll come back around.” Evie whispered, lifting a hand to rest on his damp cheek. Silently, she cursed the Death Eater for still being able to make Charlie cry all these years later.

“One can dream.” He mumbled, leaning into her palm, “But it doesn’t do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”

“Sometimes I forget how insightful you are, Charlie Weasley.” 

“I know.” He replied solemnly as she moved to adjust the little boy in her arms, “I like having the element of surprise in my brilliance.”

“I never said brilliant.” She teased, recognizing his need to lighten the mood.

“But you were thinking it.” He argued back.

Evie laughed, “No comment.” 

“Get back to your nap, we’ve got another hour and before naptime ends and I know you haven’t been sleeping lately.” He told her, rising from the bed and stretching in the darkness, “Neville and I will check in with the house elves and keep an eye on the others.” 

“Thanks Charlie.” Evie whispered, as he pressed a chaste kiss to her temple and headed for the door.

“No matter what, you’ll always have me, Evie.” He replied, his eyes churning with emotion before he turned to head out of the room.

“And you’ll have me.” She replied as he closed the door, earning a sad smile from the man she was blessed to call her friend.

Evie stared after him, smiling softly as she settled back into the bed and curled tighter around Henry. Before she drifted off again, she thought over her friend’s words. Maybe, just maybe, it would all work out, even if it’s not the way that they had originally hoped for.

***

The next afternoon found Evie inside her family’s manseuleum, sitting criss-cross on the floor in front of her parents’ stone caskets. It’d been a while since she’d last visited, which was made obvious by the dead flowers in the vases nearby. She usually came every week to refresh the flowers and spend a moment or two in her parents’ company. She’d tell them of everything going on in her life and remind them how much they were missed, taking the time to reminisce over the goodness of her childhood. She’d remember her mother’s dainty perfume and the cookies she made for special occasions, her father’s massive hugs and the smell of his imported cigars. She’d recall the stories they told her when they tucked her in at night and the way they’d share a secret smile when they thought she wasn’t looking. How excited they’d all been when they learned she was going to get a little sister. How they’d promised her she could choose her name. 

Now she shared everything with the caskets of her parents, her excitements and achievements, her heartbreaks and breakups. But the one thing she’d never shared with them was Henry. She could never bring herself to speak of the little boy who’s stolen her heart. The son of the man who’d killed them.

“Hi Mum. Hi Papa.” She greeted the headstones as she got comfortable against the wall, a bottle of whiskey in her hands. It wasn’t often that she drank, but tonight felt like a night to indulge in a little bit of liquid courage.

“There’s something I haven’t told you.” She began, popping the lid off the bottle and taking a swig, not even bothering to pour herself a glass. 

“You could have been grandparents.” She choked out, sniffling as she realized just how much they had missed out on. She used her wand to light the candles surrounding the room and to replace the dead flowers with sunflowers, her father’s favorite before she went on. Using it as an excuse to delay the inevitable.

She took a deep breath when she finished, knowing that his story would be difficult to get through, “His name is Henry and he’s my everything. He’s so perfect, you would just love him.”

She thought once more of how much they’d missed out on. On the life that they hadn’t gotten to live, the things they hadn’t gotten to see. Voldemort had stolen that life from them. He’d stolen her family away from her in the heat of war. It was something she could never forgive him for.

“He’s… He’s the son of Antonin Dolohov.” She told them, steeling herself for the next part, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to make it through without crying. Dolohov, after all, was the man who’d killed her parents and the man who’d cursed her with the intent of killing her as well.

“Voldemort used to torture him with the cruciatus curse.” Her voice broke as a sob of anguish ripped out of her throat, “He did it to punish Dolohov, because the man had nothing else that could be used against him. He still has nightmares, almost every single night, about it.” 

She shivered with the thought of it, pulling her arms tighter around herself before taking another swig and continuing, “We clicked instantly, you know? I mean I did with all of the kids, but Henry.... The first time I saw him he was curled up in a hospital bed in Saint Mungos. Seeing his bruised and battered little body in the giant hospital bed just broke my heart.”

She thought back to that day, how exhausted she’d been from gathering up the other children and escorting them back to the manor. She’d been up half the night with some of the younger children, soothing their nightmares and calming their fears, but the moment she stepped into his hospital room all of her energy returned. This was the one she had needed to fight for, that much was obvious as she had looked down at the tiny little thing in front of her. SHe’d taken up her place at his bedside, harassing the healers for updates and running her fingers through his dirty curls. From the moment she’d seen him she knew that he was meant to be the one she fought for.

“I cried through the night as I stayed with him,” She explained to the silent graves, tears leaking from her eyes, “ and when he finally woke up, he looked at me with his big blue eyes, climbed into my lap, and told me in the smallest little voice, that it was okay.” She was sobbing now, unable to hold it in any longer, “This little malnourished beaten and battered  _ baby  _ that’d been held hostage by the Dark Lord himself told me that it was all okay now, and then curled up in my arms and went back to sleep.” 

She could hardly speak now, trying desperately to curb her tears as she fought to get through the rest of it, “It took me three months to get him to let go of me after that. I spent every waking moment with him. And most nights I’m still at the manor curled up next to him, praying to every god that will listen to take away his pain. It was torture being apart from him, it’s still torture but with the old adoption laws I just, I knew it was going to be hard to let him go.”

She paused then, finally regaining some of her composure before speaking again, “After months of torturing myself with it, and spending so much time with him, Charlie actually physically dragged me home.” 

She didn’t blame her friend for doing so, she knew that now. But she’d refused to speak to him for days afterward before she saw reason.

“I was pouring everything I had into caring for him and my friends were scared that if I didn't create some distance, set some boundaries, that I wouldn’t survive him being adopted. Not that anyone would, they’re too scared of his father to even try to adopt him.” She stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Charlie and Dora made me swear on my magic that outside of my shifts at the school and the nights I spend with him, I wouldn’t focus on him. That I'd live my life as if they weren't a part of it.”

She recalled their explosive fight, how she’d screamed at the both of them and refused to listen to reason. How in the couple of months that followed, she’d barely left her flat. How she hadn’t known how to live her life anymore away from the little boy. How now, months later, there was finally hope.

“But now, a new law has been passed. You don’t have to be married to adopt a child. Kingsley called me up yesterday to personally tell me.” She told them, taking another large swig of whiskey and sighing heavily before continuing, “The only caveat is I have to get permission from Dolohov himself to adopt his son.”

She cried freely at the thought of doing so, letting the emotion overtake her in the privacy of the stone building. She looked up towards the glass ceiling to the watercolor sky of pinks and purples and oranges, wishing like hell she could have an actual conversation with the parents she’d lost so long ago.

“I’ve got to go and see the man I hate more than Voldemort himself and ask him to let me raise his child.” She sobbed once more, a heartbreaking sound of total anguish that reverberated off the stone walls and repeated itself back to her, “I’ve got to sit across from the man who  _ killed _ you and beg for the right to take Henry home. To raise  _ my _ son.” 

She banged her head back against the wall, wishing there was something else that she could do. Wishing there was any other way to go about it, “I’m going to do it.” She told them, her voice a determined whisper as she willed away the tears, “I’m gonna bring my son home.”

She didn’t speak after that, content to bury her sorrows in the bottle she’d brought along for company and drown out the memories of her parents’ torture that always had a habit of sneaking in when she thought of them. The night would always be burned into her memory. She’d been hidden away under her mother’s invisibility cloak, masked and silenced. Frozen in place in a hidden alcove behind the piano. She remembered their screams, her father’s pleas to spare his wife. Their lies about her location. How Bellatrix Lestrange had crucioed them repeatedly, how Dolohov had driven knives in between their bones, torturing them slowly as they were repeatedly asked to join the cause. How her mother, Calliope, had spit in the face of her mad cousin, Bella, everytime the other witch deigned to speak. How her father, Evan, had fought his bonds and repeatedly broke out of them to tackle the man torturing his wife. How he’d finally been silenced with a green killing curse to the heart after a long night of torture. How her mother had screamed at the sight of him lying limp on the floor and unleashed an impressive explosion of magic in a rage of manic anger, knocking the two death eaters off their feet before the same green light ended her own life. It was only later that she’d learned her mother had cast a sacrificial protection over her, shielding her from all manner of curses and darkness. It was the reason she had survived Dolohov’s own curse years later. It was the reason she, and Hermione too, was still alive. 

As the dark of the night crept up over the graveyard and the candles grew brighter, she cried the rest of her tears. Mourning her parents fully as she prepared for her visit to the prison by drinking the rest of the whiskey and running their deaths on loop in her head. Maybe one day she’d be able to forget the horrors she witnessed that night, but not tonight. Tonight she would drink in their honor and numb herself to the thought of sitting across from her parents’ killer.

When the moon was high over the glass ceiling and the bottle was empty, she pulled out the slip of dragonhide that was always in her pocket and spoke her plea into it, sinking into herself as she curled on her side and wept once more. 

The door to the mausoleum opened a while later, revealing the figures of her two best friends as they made their way towards her. It really was a genius invention of theirs, the strip of leather they’d charmed in their second year.

“Oh, Evie…” Dora spoke softly, lowering herself to the ground next to her friend and wrapping an arm around the girl in comfort.

“Drinking without me?” Charlie teased softly, collapsing onto the floor next to them and reaching for the empty bottle of liquor, “You know better than that.”

“Come on love, we’re going home.” Dora instructed, pulling on the other woman’s arm and bringing her up to a sitting position “You can have the guest room again, Remus is changing the sheets as we speak. Charlie help me get her up.”

The two of them struggled to get her to her feet, Dora flicking her hand to extinguish the candles and leading them through the door before disapparrating them back to her and Remus’ cottage. She didn’t even complain when Evie let loose the contents of her stomach in the flowerbeds, instead leading her best friend into the house and right up to the bathroom and shoving her straight into the shower after pouring a sober-up potion down her throat.

“Shower, love. Then sleep.” Dora instructed her, as she leaned against the cabinets and refused to leave the small bathroom, “I’ll get Charlie to stay too.”

“I’m sorry Dora.” Evie whispered a while later, as she turned off the shower and began wringing out her own blonde curls.

“No apologies.” Dora promised, handing her a towel, “You know we’ve got your back.”

“But you’ve got other responsibilities now.” Evie argued, stepping out of the shower wrapped in the fluffy white towel. 

“Hey, from the moment Mum brought you home to live with us after… After everything, I knew we were going to be sisters for life.” Dora promised, wrapping her best friend in a hug worth a million unspoken words. 

“You said that it was after we met for the first time!” Evie exclaimed, shooting her friend a look as they made their way across the hall to the spare bedroom

“The first time we met we were literal babies.” Dora rolled her eyes, throwing a set of sweats at the blonde girl and laughing, “Sure we were best friends from the very beginning, but we became  _ sisters _ then.”

“Thank you Dora.” Evie whispered, smiling sadly at the girl before slipping into the spare undergarments she kept here and popping the worn t shirt over her head.

“You know I hate when you call me that.” Dora groaned, collapsing on the bed with a grunt.

“Deal with it, I’ve been calling you that from the moment we could speak our first words.” Evie replied, pulling on the sweats, “You’ll always be Dora to me.”

“And Remus, of course.” She snorted, before sitting up to face Evie, “Come on, we’ll go downstairs and eat some dinner and you can snuggle Teddy the whole time.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” She replied, always willing to snuggle her only godchild.

The night was spent laughing with her friends and eating a delicious meal of shrimp tacos while Evie and Charlie fought over their godson and Remus and Dora made bedroom eyes at each other over the table. 

“You’re staying tonight, Charlie, right?” Dora asked as they were cleaning up the kitchen and Remus was attempting to pry a sleeping Teddy out of Evie’s arms to put him down in his crib for the night. 

“So you can get out of snuggling with Evie and fuck your husband while you’ve got two built in babysitters here?” The man retorted, earning the whack of a dish towel from their pink haired friend as he shoved her off, “Yes, yes, I’m staying. Of course I’m staying.”

Remus just laughed as he watched his wife assault the other man, finally retrieving his son from Evie and carrying the infant up to his own room and bed.

“Well now I’m considering revoking the invitation.” Dora threatened, narrowing her eyes at her friend before turning back to washing the dishes the muggle way. 

“And risk losing your babysitters?” Evie teased, hopping up on the counter to begin drying the dishes they had washed, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Someone’s getting _laid_ tonight.” Charlie all but sang as he and Evie chuckled at their friends’ blush. 

“If there wasn’t a baby sleeping upstairs I’d be charming your turntable to play some Marvin Gaye.” Evie admitted, pouting at the thought of it, “To truly set the mood.”

“Go ahead, Teddy’s room is charmed in a one way silencing charm.” Dora told her, smiling wickedly at her friend, “We can hear him, but he can’t hear us.” 

“That is brilliant.” Charlie exclaimed, pointing his wand through the doorway to the sitting room to start the record player, the sound of a Marvin Gaye album drifting through the open door. 

“Okay who's trying to seduce me?” Remus joked, returning to the kitchen with a smile on his face. 

“Me, obviously.” Charlie teased, rolling his eyes and earning a whack to the back of his head from both Evie and Dora as he continued on, “Ready to run away to Romania together?”

“Maybe next time.” The man quipped smirking at the redhead, “From what I hear, some witch is in love with me here. Can’t go running out on true love like that.”

It was a familiar joke, one they’d brought up often. All of them were always threatening to run off to Romania at a moment's notice in one way or another. The four of them had grown closer as Dora and Remus had fallen in love, something Dora had tried and failed to hide from her two closest friends. They’d been nothing but accepting of their relationship, refusing to hear the arguments Remus had presented over their age difference or his werewolf status. When it’d come time for them to marry, they were some of the very few to witness it. Other than Sirius and Dora’s parents, it’d been just them. Sirius still came around often, falling just as easily into their little group as Remus had. Grateful for the friendship they’d offered him and often crashing on one of their couches when he didn’t want to go home and fight with his mother's portrait. They’d made their own little ragtag group of misfits, expanding further when Charlie brought Bill and Fleur along. 

They were family to Evie, this little group of crazies. And as she settled into the guest bed next to Charlie several hours later, she couldn’t help but thank whatever gods were listening for granting her those friendships. 

“Thank you for coming tonight, Charlie.” She whispered as she curled up next to her friend, grateful for the silencing charm Dora and Remus had almost forgotten to use as she listened to the sound of his slow breaths next to her, “Thank you for staying.”

“I’ll always be there when you call, Evie.” He promised her, wrapping an arm loosely around her.

“Thank Merlin for adolescent ingenuity.” She quipped, as they laughed quietly over the memories of their third year invention. Charming their pieces of leather to work like an instant scroll, something that could only be read by them and would always return to their pocket from wherever they left it. It was protected by the elements and would let off a sound only they could hear when a message came through. It was pretty ingenious actually, to be able to keep in constant communication with their friends.

“Do you think he still has it?” Charlie asked, his voice a low whisper as he asked the question they’d often wondered. It was the reason they’d become more careful with the information they passed on it prior to his incarceration. 

“I don’t know.” She admitted, tilting her head up to face him, “Sometimes I hope so. If anything just to remind him what a massive mistake he made, but mostly so he at least has some comfort in Azkaban.”

“Then why wouldn’t he respond?” 

“I don’t know.” She whispered once more.

“Maybe he doesn’t have pockets.” Charlie offered, though she knew that he did. Charlie knew that too. He just wanted any other answer than the man he loved’s intentional silence over the last six months. 

“Do you still love him?” She asked the man lying next to her.

“I think a part of me will always love him.”

They didn’t say anything after that, each of them content in the silence, taking the comfort they offered one another as their breathing evened out and their eyelids grew heavy. Eventually falling asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some love in the form of kudos and comments because I'm a slut for praise & recognition and my extroverted ass loves replying to comments. Thank God I'm not famous because I would spend all day just responding comments and trolling fans on the internet.


	3. Even When The Skies Get Rough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished writing this out and felt like I should go ahead and post it, I always feel bad just posting one or two chapters, you know? 
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did I'd be using all of my billions to seduce Henry Cavill. 
> 
> Speaking of Henry Cavill, that is who I picture as Dolohov. But Like Witcher Henry Cavill. Just with dark hair and dark blue eyes. Hot as fuck right? Also for Thorfinn I've always imagined that hot Swiss(?) naval officer dude that went viral on instagram a few years back. You know the one.
> 
> Anyways, enough of my ramblings. There's no beta because I literally just starting writing this chapter this morning and just finished five minutes ago. TBH I'm running on no sleep and no caffeine so ignore any mistakes and I'll (probably fix them later).

Charlie awoke to Evie climbing quickly out of bed, pulling on a pair of uggs and an old Quidditch jersey over the t-shirt she was wearing, “What is it? What’s wrong?” He asked, following her out of bed and accepting the jacket and shoes she threw at him.

“Henry’s having a nightmare.” She explained, as she searched frantically for her wand, “I have to go.”

“I’m coming with you.” he decided, leaving no room to argue as he donned his own rumpled jacket. She nodded her consent and dragged him towards the floo. His heart breaking even more as he followed her through and chased after her up the stairs of the manor, her panic palatable as rushed to the room at the end of the hall, stopping outside the door to steady herself before stepping into the room. 

A tiny little boy sat curled in the middle of the bed, screaming as Ginny sat nearby trying to comfort him, “Mummy!” He cried out through his tears, launching himself at Evangeline as she pulled him just as swiftly into her arms, “Mummy. Mummy. Mummy.” he dissolved fully into tears as Charlie watched shell-shocked from just inside the door.

“I’m here, baby. I’m here.” She assured him, rocking him back and forth as her own tears fell freely from her eyes, pacing slowly across the room as she rocked him gently through his tears “Everything’s okay, I’m here, baby.”

“Mummy…” The boy cried her name, the sound muffled as he buried himself further into her chest, his back heaving with his sobs and shrieks of pain.

“I’m here, baby, I’m here.” She soothed, rubbing circled across his tiny little back, her own small hand covering it completely as she tried to calm him down, “Mummy’s got you. Mummy’s got you.”

Charlie couldn’t move from his spot in the doorway, dumbstruck by the anguish of the little boy as he watched her comfort him. Ginny moved past him slowly, dropping a hand on his shoulder, her eyes sad as understanding passed between them and she left them alone in the room. Charlie sank into the chair by the door, raking his hands through his hair as he attempted to process the scene in front of him.  _ If Voldemort wasn’t already dead...  _ He shook himself of the thought as he watched his best friend comfort the little boy she loved so much. Comfort  _ her _ son. Charlie couldn’t help but to think of him as such as his heart continued to break for the little boy in Evangeline’s arms. He’d witnessed the little boy’s nightmares before, of course he had, but each time he saw it it was like a hot poker was thrust into his brain. It was so agonizing you wanted to move heaven and earth just to take the child’s pain away.

Henry’s sobs subsided as Evangeline climbed into the bed, shushing him gently as she curled herself around him, protecting him like a mother should as he slowly drifted back off to sleep. 

“Have they gotten any better?” He asked finally, not moving from his spot in the chair as the two of them held each other's gaze.

“If anything, they’ve gotten worse. Sometimes it takes hours to calm him.” She admitted, her voice cracking with emotion as she nodded her head to the spot beside her, “Come lay down, you could use some sleep too.”

Charlie nodded and climbed into bed next to her, succumbing to sleep quickly as Evie laid next to him worrying over the little boy in her arms.

***

Waking up the next morning, Evie was surprised by the lack of bodies in the bed. Sitting up slowly she searched the room for any sign of the two of them before checking her watch for the time and jumping swiftly out of bed at the sight of it. Rushing around the room she grabbed her spare pair of jeans from the closet and pulled a brush through her hair before donning her sneakers and the jersey she’d arrived in, all but running downstairs to leave for Azkaban. 

“Mummy!” Henry shouted out as she ducked into the kitchen to say goodbye, reaching for one of Molly’s famous waffles as the kids shouted their greetings at her. 

“Hey baby.” She greeted him with a kiss before turning to greet the other kids and adults to say a quick hello. She’d given up months ago on trying to get Henry to call her anything else, he had all but refused to stop, claiming her just as much as she claimed him. If she was being honest, she secretly loved it each and every time he’d uttered the two simple syllables, “I’ve got to go, but I’ll come back later for namptime, okay?”

“Okay Mummy.” He agreed, giving her a very sweet and very sticky kiss on the cheek as Molly handed her a cup of coffee, before turning back to his plate of waffles, strawberries, and bacon drowning in a sea of syrup.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Charlie asked from his place behind the stove frying bacon as she placed the thermos upright in her bag and stole a strawberry.

“No, Charlie it’s okay.” She told him, giving him a small smile before thanking Molly for breakfast and saying goodbye to the people in the kitchen.

“Are you sure?” He asked as she made her way to the door.

She could see the worry in his eyes as she turned to face him from the doorway. For all of his courage and recklessness, at his core Charlie cared deeply for his family, bothe chosen and blood. She could see how much it was killing him to let her go and face Dolohov alone. But she knew she had to do it on her own. She also knew she couldn’t bring him with her to Azkaban. Kinglsey had told her that Dolohov wasn’t allowed to leave his cell except to go straight across the hall to the showers. The Ministry didn’t want to risk him getting out, so they kept him in isolation on the top floor of the prison without human contact for days in a cell all to himself. She was going to have to go to  _ him  _ and walk almost all of the cells in the prison to get there. Which meant that she was going to see Thorfinn today, whether she wanted to or not. She refused to put Charlie through the pain of seeing him in chains.

She sent him a more confident smile, “I’m sure, Charlie. You’ve got to get to work anyways.”

He nodded once in understanding, “Good luck.” He said before turning back to the bacon frying in the pan.

“I’ll see you all later.” She told the kids, thanking Molly once more for breakfast and heading towards the floo in the living room. 

When she landed in the protected visitors section of the prison, the Auror that she’d recognize anywhere was waiting for her. “Uncle Alastor!” She greeted the gruff older wizard with an excited hug and a kiss to the cheek that he took with only a little bit of grumbling, “What are you doing here?”

“If you think I’m letting you waltz around this prison with some dandelion recruit of Kingsley’s you don’t know me at all.” The head Auror said, shaking his head in disappointment, “Your father would have my head if he knew who I was letting you visit.”

“What Papa doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She replied with a sad smile, speaking the words reminiscent of a time long gone. He and her father had been MLE partners up until the death of her grandparents, when Evan Rosier had to step up to take his place on the Wizengamot. But even when they had no longer been working together, they’d remained steadfast friends. Her father was one of the few people Alastor had taken into his confidence and in return Evan had welcomed him as a member of their family. She was beyond grateful for the man who had always been an uncle to her and had been named her godfather all those years ago. Following the death of her parents, he’d camped out in front of her door at Andy and Ted’s for months, refusing to even entertain the possibility of letting anything or anyone get close enough to harm her. It had caused some late night insanity when Dora would try to sneak into her room on the nights following her move. How either of them had learned to work so well together after him scaring her in the middle of night with a wand to her throat, she’d never know. But she was beyond grateful to the man who’d protected her with his own life when her parents no longer could. 

She sighed, looking up at the grisled Auror as he unwarded the room and let her through before snapping the wards right back into place and leading her to the desk to sign in.

“I want to talk with him alone.” She stated softly, sending him a pleading look after the man up front cleared them to go ahead. 

“Over my dead body, lassie.” He told her as they made their way past the first guard station and down the long hall to the stairs at the opposite end of the building, “You’re lucky I’m even allowing you to be here right now.”

“Kingsley’s the one who cleared me to be here, Uncle Al.” She reminded him with a teasing lilt to her voice as they climbed the first set of stairs.

“See if he’ll still allow you to visit when I forbid you to come back.” He challenged, unwarding the door at the top of the first stairwell and leading her down the long hall of the second floor to the next staircase.

“I don’t know, I’m told that I can be pretty persuasive.” She mused smiling at the man and ignoring the prisoners in their cells. If she hadn’t been with Alastor Moody she was sure they’d be yelling all kinds of crude things as she walked past, but either out of respect or fear of the aging Auror, they remained silent.

“That’s your mum in you.” He replied, as they went through the next door leading to the next staircase and began to climb once more,“The woman never got an answer she didn’t like. She could have convinced Tom Riddle to give up power and run away with the circus if she’d been given the chance.”

Evie smiled at the thought of it before asking the question that’d been on her mind since they started their ascent, “Why the hell isn’t there a staircase straight to the top?”

He laughed the rumbling laugh that she’d grown up hearing, “Your father asked me the exact same question the first time we were here.” He told her, opening the next door and ushering her through, “It’s supposed to make escape even harder. It’s for the same reason that there are no doors on the building and the room you entered in is the middle of the prison behind 4 steel doors warded within an inch of their lives. The dementors weren’t the only thing that made this place impenetrable.”

“That is actually pretty genius.” She offered, as they continued climbing. 

When they reached the next door he stopped her before opening it, “Lassie, this level houses the worst of his followers. I can promise you they’re not going to be as respectful as the prisoners we’ve already passed.” 

“I can take it.” She promised him then faltered, “Is Thorfinn…”

He looked down at her, his gaze filled with worry and rage as he debated on whether or not to tell her, “Yes.” He said finally, “Are you sure you want to go on?”

She squared her shoulders, “I’m sure.” She promised him.

He held her gaze for a beat or two more, as if studying her for any sense of unease before beginning the process of unwarding the door. “If you’re sure.”

“Uncle, if he tries to speak with me…” She asked as they stepped through the door only to come face to face with another one.

“Don’t worry, I’ll kill him if he says a word.” The Auror threatened as he raised his wand to start unwarding the second door.

“No!” She exclaimed, before dropping her gaze down to the floor, “I’d - I would actually like to speak with him if he does.”

“Why on earth-”

She cut off his shout of disapproval, “Because I deserve an explanation.”

“That’s not what we’re here for.” He reminded her, his voice gravelly as he stared up at the ceiling as if looking to the old gods for answers.

“I know.” She said softly, watching as he manipulated his hands into the old celtic symbol for warding off evil, something she’d watched him do her whole life. It was comforting, seeing the familiar gesture in this place of darkness and sin.

“We’re here so you can convince Dolohov to let you adopt Henry.” He told her, though she could hear the resolve fading in his voice.

“I’m fully aware of why we’re here, Uncle Al.” She gently reminded him, waiting patiently for his verdict. She’d only had a lifetime of experience learning how to manipulate the man, after all.

He grumbled something about stubborn women before sighing heavily and giving her a hard stare, “Okay.” He reluctantly agreed, “But the moment he does  _ anything _ I’m dragging you out of here.”

“Deal.” She said with a smile as he went about unwarding the second steel door.

“Still time to back out.” He told her, before pushing open the door.

She smiled at him before pushing it open herself, “Never.”

They were met with a barrage of curses and jeers from the inmates within their cells. But after the first couple of Moody’s painful jinxes had been thrown they quieted down. The two visitors made their way swiftly down the long corridor past a large number of Voldemort’s inner circle and most sadistic followers.

They came to  _ his _ cell about halfway down the long hall, passing as Thorfinn watched but did not speak. She felt his eyes burning hot on her back as she moved, wishing like hell he would say something, anything. That he would give her something to go on. Some assurance that everything was going to be okay, that it was all just a big mistake, that he wasn’t supposed to -

“You’re wearing my jersey.” The rumbling sound of the viking’s voice called after her, stopping her cold in her tracks. It was just as she remembered him to sound, if not a couple octaves deeper than their last conversation in her flat six years ago, as if no time had passed since his betrayal. At the sound of his voice the mournful ache in her belly returned. As if, it too, had never left, “You’re still wearing my jersey.”

She looked down at the jersey she’d thrown over her tank, thinking it had to be either fate or the world’s biggest coincidence that it’d been the thing she’d thrown on in the middle of the night. She turned to face the man, taking a deep breath before she spoke, “Just because you stopped being my family doesn’t mean that I stopped being yours.” She said unable to hide the pain in her voice as she stared at the man he’d become. 

He was even taller now, towering above her leaning against the other side of the bars. The long blond hair they’d often joked made them long lost twins hung limply down his back and his ocean blue eyes had lost the sparkle and mischief they’d been known for. In its place was a hardness she’d hoped to never see in him and a sadness that outmatched her own. Dressed in the raggedy clothes of Azkaban, she couldn’t help but notice the pockets at his thigh. 

“You _ do _ have it.” She spat at the man, her words accusatory as Moody moved to silence the catcalling form of Rabastan Lestrange a few cells away. 

“Evie…” He whispered, as if he was trying to convey all of his regrets in those two little syllables.

“I didn’t want to believe it, Thorfinn.” She shot at him, tears leaking from her eyes as he watched her silently through the bars, his own face an unreadable mask of emotion as he stared down at her, “I didn’t want to believe that you could just run to  _ him _ like that. After everything I told you, after everything we  _ went  _ through, how could we have ever imagined that you would  _ betray  _ us like that, Thorfinn?”

“I never wanted to hurt you Evie.” He told her, his deep voice thick with emotion as he leaned heavily against the bars, trying to get as close as he could, “I was -” He stopped as if it was painful to say anymore, “Please just know how sorry I am, Evie. Tell Dora how sorry I am, how much I miss her. Tell Charlie…” He choked back a sob of his own. “Tell Charlie that I love him more than anything in this god-forsaken-world and that if I could go back in time and do it all over I would, just so I could be with him.”

“How am I supposed to tell Charlie any of that?” She cried, dragging a heavy hand through her hair as she stared at the man she would have given anything to save, “How am I supposed to tell him that the man he’s loved his entire life, the man who’s shot killing curses at him on a regular basis, has loved him just as much as he has loved you? How am I supposed to do that, Thorfinn?”

“Evie -” Alastor reached for her, trying to pull her away from the cell.

“No.” She shook him off, refusing to move from her spot in front of the Death Eater, “You were my  _ brother _ , Thorfinn. You were a part of me.” 

“And you’re still my  _ sister _ !” He insisted, “You’re my family. You’ll always be my family.”

“You don’t throw unforgivables at your family.” She shot back, her own fiery rage looking eerily reminiscent of his own as her blonde hair crackled with angry magic, “You betrayed me, Thorfinn. You betrayed all of us. But most of all, you betrayed yourself.” She shook off the tears threatening to spill over, “If your younger self could see you now, I don’t think they’d recognize you. God, Thorfinn…” She broke off into tears once more as she yelled at him, “I wanted so badly to hate you. To curse you up and down until you rolled over and died, but I  _ can’t.  _ Because even after everything, you’re still my brother. And I hate myself for it.”

“Evie, I’m sorry -”

“You don’t get to be sorry, Thor.” She snapped at him, not even realizing the nickname that slipped from her lips as she shouted at him, “Apologies won’t fix this!”

He stopped, his shoulders drooping slightly before he turned and collapsed onto the edge of his cot, the pain and exhaustion that was seeping out of him was almost tangible as he wrestled with himself before her eyes. If it was anyone else looking at him, they’d have thought that he was just ignoring them, but she wasn’t anyone. She’d never been just anyone. She could see how he was holding onto something, fighting with himself as he figured out the words to encompass his grief.

“No they won’t.” He agreed finally, his voice filled with dejection as he met her gaze once more, “But maybe one day it will all make sense.”

“Thorfinn, I don’t -”

“Just go.” He told her, leaning back against the stone wall and closing his eyes so tight it almost looked painful. “I know I’m not the one you’re truly here to see.”

“One of these days you’re going to tell me why. I deserve to know why, Thor.” She told him finally, wiping her tears and turning back to Alastor who was watching her with his own worried expression. 

But instead of saying anything in that moment, he led her as quickly as he could down to the next door. Unwarding it in record time and all but pushing her through, before locking it back up behind them. She took the chance to collapse against the stone wall, breaking down in tears as she sunk to the floor. Overcome with the emotion of their first conversation in six years and cursing the fates, the architect of the prison, and Voldemort himself for putting her through that. And then she cried for the man she’d just left behind her. Sobbing freely at the loss of her brother and wishing she could find a time turner herself to be able to go back and change his choices.

“You okay, lassie?” Alastor asked finally, as she stood from her spot on the floor and started making her way up the stairs.

“I’m okay now.” She promised him, reinforcing her resolve and refocusing on why she’d come. 

_ This is for Henry. This is all for Henry. _

She kept reminding herself of the fact as they made their way to the top of the final staircase. This one was much taller than the others, no doubt creating a greater barrier between the two levels. 

“Are you sure you -” He began to ask once more, before she cut him off

“Dolohov’s nothing compared to him.” She assured him, motioning for him to unward the door in front of them. 

He hesitated, “If I let you go in there alone will you promise not to even look at him on the way down?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” She agreed, sending him a shaky smile as he opened the door and ushered her through. Automatically she was hit with the most bone-chilling cold she’d ever experienced, as if she’d never feel warm again. Icicles hung from the ceiling above her and the wind whipped through the open slats in the stone. She shivered under the light weight of Thorfinn’s old jersey but pressed on. Compared to this level of the prison, the levels below them could almost be considered paradise. The freezing temperature of the hall had her curling her arms closer around her torso as she walked down the hall. The hallway was longer than the rest and went out in both directions dangling them high above the sea as the walked further down the one side. 

“Who’s at the other end?” She asked her uncle, reaching for her wand to cast a warming spell. 

“It won’t work up here.” He told her, avoiding her question and sending her what could be considered a sympathetic smile for him but anybody else who wore the expression would have gotten themselves murdered, “Magic dampening wards. They won’t risk it.” He reached into his own coat, pulling out a bundle of thick wool from within the depths of the old parka, “Luckily, some of us think ahead.” 

He handed her the wool peacoat she’d left at his house in the highlands last time she’d visited and she slipped it on greedily, relaxing into comfortable familiarity of her favorite coat. “Thank you, Uncle Al.”

He chuckled, moving them further down the long hall, “He’s chained to the floor.” He told her, still ignoring her earlier question, something that was par for the course with man, “But you still need to be vigilant. Just because he’s shackled doesn’t mean he cannot hurt you.”

She nodded, “You’re really going to let me go in there alone, aren’t you?”

“I’m regretting it with every step we take, kid.” he told her. 

“Constant vigilance, I promise.” She assured the man as they came to the end of the hall. To her right, was a heavy metal door with a small slat of impenetrable glass concealing what looked like a single shower spicket. To her left was the cage holding the man who’d been the very best cursebreaker in the world until he’d turned to Voldemort. The mass murderer who’d slaughtered her parents and almost killed her. The psychopath whose ruthlessness made up the stories monsters themselves told around a campfire late at night. 

As she stared at him through the bars of the cell, she couldn’t help but notice how disturbing he looked kneeling before them. His dark hair hung in limp, wet waves against his cheeks highlighting the hollowness of his cheekbones and the ferocity in his eyes as he stared back at her. Even with him being chained to the floor with a shackles on his wrists and ankles and a collar around his throat, he was utterly terrifying. When he smiled at her, a slow lifting of the corners of his mouth, flashing a set of perfectly straight teeth not unlike something a rabbit would see before being devoured by a wolf, she couldn’t help the shiver that escaped down her spine. He was the scariest thing she’d ever seen. 

And yet she could see bits of Henry in him. From the dimples in his cheeks to the slope of his nose, Antonin Dolohov carried bits of his son with him. But none of those things were as startling as the dark blue eyes framed in heavy lashes that stared back at her. If he wasn’t so utterly deranged, she would have almost called him beautiful. The weight of that thought settled heavily in her gut as she held his gaze. She couldn’t help but think how unfair it was that someone that sadistic could look like they were etched in marble by Michealangelo himself. 

She nodded once to Alastor before he opened the heavy gate with two drops of his own blood, slashing at his palm like it was the most normal thing in the world. She stared speechlessly up at her uncle as she watched him swallow the grimace of pain and wrap his hand quickly in the waiting handkerchief.

“If you even lay so much as a finger on a hair atop her head, I will not hesitate to end your life where you stand.” Alastor warned the Death Eater still kneeling in the cage, “She is the only reason you are still alive as it is. She refused to let me kill you and avoid all of this bullshit.” 

Dolohov smiled, “I’ll be on my best behavior, Al.” He told her godfather with alarming familiarity.

“You’d better be.” “Otherwise I will follow through on my promise.”

“Scout’s honor.” He replied giving a sort of salute she recognized as muggle, confusing her further as she made her way into the cell. 

“So, the precious little rose has come to visit.” The Russian Death Eater crooned, standing to his full height as Alastor locked the gate behind her and stepped just barely out of sight. 

He towered over her at his full height, taller than Thorfinn and maybe even rivaling Hagrid himself as she forced herself to stand her ground. Refusing to flinch beneath his examination of her smaller frame. She was by no means short at her own impressive height but still, he made her feel absolutely miniscule as she craned her neck slightly to hold his gaze.

“What do you want,  _ Kukolka _ ?” He asked, shooting the russian word at her like a bullet out of a muggle gun.

“I want to adopt your son.” She told him, unblinking as he narrowed his dark eyes at her, trying desperately to keep the emotion from creeping into her voice as she spoke to him, “I need your permission to do so.”

“Pity you wasted a trip.” He smirked down at her, flashing another smirk in her direction as he willed her to fold underneath his gaze.

“Pity you wasted your life.” She shot back, pulling the courage to so from deep within her soul.

“That’s a matter of opinion.” He assured her, his eyes darkening in anger as he stepped fully into her personal space, using his height and bulk as a means to intimidate her.

“You could have had it all.” She told him, “Why give it up for the whims of a mad man?”

“Did you just come here to attack my decision making process or to adopt my son.”

“I came for Henry.” She spat at him, “He is the only reason I am here. The only reason I would  _ ever _ give you the time of day.” 

“I murdered your parents.” He stated as casually as if he was predicting the weather, “Do you plan to return the favor and murdering my son?”

She couldn’t stop the tears that suddenly threatened to spill, blurring her vision as she gasped at the man’s crude statement, “Never in a billion lifetimes would I hurt my child!” she swiped at her eyes angrily as she yelled at him, forgetting in the moment how easily he could hurt her if he chose to, “Children should never be punished for their parents mistakes.” 

“ _ Your child _ .” Dolohov spat back at her, his own anger rising as he stared her down, but where her own temper burned fiery and bright, his fury grew colder and longer, a perfect match for the desolate wasteland of ice that they currently stood in.“You’re not worthy of him.” 

“If anyone’s not worthy of my son, it’s his father.” She countered, refusing to back down or step away from the Death Eater invading her space and her senses.

“He’s not your son, Rosier.” Dolohov growled, pinning her against the rails of the cage with arms braced on either side of her, leaning in close to continue his intimidation, “He will never be your son. Not as long as I’m living.”

She refused to let him scare her as he held her captive against the sturdy metal rails. She refused to be harassed out of finally adopting her son. Not when she was finally close enough to see it.

“He calls me Mummy.” She told him, unable to help the taunts and promises that began falling from her lips “Whether or not you ever legally sign him over to me, Henry will always be my son. I will be the one kissing his skinned knees when he falls off his broom and holding him close during thunderstorms. I will be the one filling his stocking at Christmastime and hiding the eggs for him to find at Easter. I will be the one cooking him breakfast in the morning and cutting the crusts off his peanut butter sandwiches to take to school. I will be the one who will continue comforting him in the midst of his nightmares and swinging him around in the garden on sunny days.” Dolohov was nearly shaking with rage as he stared down at her, but she refused to back down, “He will grow up happy and loved, without the shadow of your presence leading him astray. He will grow up without a father who lets him be tortured by a homicidal maniac as punishment for their own failures.”

“You have no idea what you speak of, little girl.” He told her, his voice low and dangerous, causing the little hairs on the back of her neck to stand straight up. In that moment she recognized the murderous glint in his eyes from the night she’d hidden in the wall while he murdered her parents.

“I know better than most.” She shot back, “I was there that night. You didn’t know that, did you? Does it make you feel like a failure knowing I was mere centimeters from your grasp? That you could have killed me too if you’d only looked a little bit harder.”

“Oh I was well aware of your hiding place.” He told her, catching her flash of surprise with a predatory smirk, “You’re only alive because of me.” He told her before leaning in close to whisper in her ear, “Remember that the next time you try and anger me.”

She didn’t believe it, she  _ couldn’t _ believe it, “You’re lying.” 

There was no reason for him to spare her. No reason for him to protect her hiding spot behind the wall.

“Who else knows of the spot behind the piano?”

She froze. No one knew, not even Dora or Charlie. No one except Alastor Moody. He was the only one in the entirety of the wizarding world who knew of her location that night. He’d been the one who’d found her in the very spot her mother had hidden her in. The spot she hadn’t known existed until she was being shoved into the wall. The spot that had disappeared as soon as she had left it. The spot she’d never found again. The only spot Alastor had checked for her.

“Guess who alerted him of your survival.” He goaded her, raising a dark eyebrow as he willed her into the realization of the part he played in her survival.

It was too mad of a concept for her to even consider.

“You didn’t.” She breathed, unable to keep the thought from rooting in her mind. Unable to keep the barrage of memories at bay as she thought back to the morning Alastor had found her curled up in the secret alcove behind the piano. She stared at the man in front of her, willing him to refute it. To tell her he was just messing with her mind. Instead he stepped away from her, tossing her a casual smirk as he leaned against the stone wall opposite of her.

“Well this has been fun,  _ Solnyshka _ .” Dolohov chuckled, a rich velvety sound that had no business coming from the psychopath’s mouth, “Come back again sometime, maybe we’ll do it again.”

She grimaced, “The next time I come to see you, you’ll be signing adoption papers.” She promised him, turning to come face to face with Alastor on the other side of the bars. Unfiltered pain shone in his eyes as he let her out of the cell and led her silently back down the hall and through the prison. 

“Is it true?” She asked finally, once they’d signed out and returned to the traveling room.

“Yes.” He replied, refusing to elaborate anymore than that.

“Why?” She questioned, her brain breaking as it tried to process his confession.

“I’ve never known.” He admitted, moving to the fireplace to ready it for travel.

“You never told me who was on the other end of the hall.” She reminded him, changing the subject in a desperate attempt to keep him talking. 

“It doesn’t matter.” He answered finally, “Go home Evangeline.”

She nodded once and stepped into the fireplace without sparing him another glance. Whatever he was hiding, she knew he wouldn’t tell her until he was ready. For now, all she could do was pray to whatever gods that were listening that one day soon she’d get to bring her son home. With or without his father’s permission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously Moody's alive. 
> 
> Leave some love in the form of kudos and comments because I'm a slut for for the love of random people on the internet. 
> 
> See y'all next week.


	4. Who Will Love You? Who Will Fight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, that it's late! I've been sick all weekend and had a debilitating migraine that made looking at screens very hard.
> 
> Anyways, Ta-Da! A fresh chapter for all my fellow weirdos. (I say that with so much love and adoration because, let's face it, who would ever want to be normal? It's ever so boring).
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did my phone wouldn't have a gazillion cracks in it and I could totally afford to live in a big house in the city with closets full of pretty dresses.
> 
> Still no beta, I'm owning my mistakes and you can fight me if you don't like them. (Please know though, if you decide you'd like to fight, that I've got a messed up ankle and am awaiting surgery so it'd probably wouldn't look very good to beat me up).

Instead of truly going home like she told Alastor she would, Evangeline headed straight from her floo to Andromeda’s. There was something to be said of a mother’s comfort and Andy was the closest thing she had to one. As she stumbled out of the fireplace and into her aunt’s living room, the living room of the house she’d grown up in because Andy and Ted had adopted her, the full force of Dolohov’s denial hit her. A sob tore from her throat as she collapsed dramatically on the floor. 

“Evie? Is that you, love?” Her Aunt’s voice called out to her as she made her way in from the kitchen, catching sight of her crumpled and crying form on the floor as she rounded the corner, “Oh no, my sweet girl!”

Andy rushed to her, dropping onto the floor next to her and pulling the younger woman into her arms, “He said no.” She cried to her aunt, letting the woman comfort her as she sobbed against her, “He said no, Mum.”

Andy rubbed her hand across Evie’s back in soothing circles as she began hiccuping through her tears, the emotion of the morning finally overtaking her, “He’s going to change his mind, my love, I promise you that.” Her Aunt promised, whispering the words against her hair as she cried, “He’ll realize how much you love his son and he’ll change his mind, I promise you.”

Slowly she came back to herself, letting the burst of emotion run its course as she huddled into her Aunt’s embrace. Andy didn’t complain or rush her, she simply held her as she cried, murmuring soft encouragements as the tears finally subsided and Evie regathered herself on the floor.

Evie looked up at her, “You really think he’ll change his mind?” She asked, through her tears, knowing she looked like an absolute mess with her runny nose and tear stained cheeks. 

“I know so, my sweet Evangeline.” Andy assured her, moving to pull her niece to her feet as she stood to her own feet, “Come on love, I think you could use a good cuppa right now after the morning you’ve had.”

She allowed her aunt to lead her into the kitchen, smiling as Evie hopped onto the counter while she put the kettle on, “I remember you and Nymphadora sitting in that same exact spot as I’d patch up your bumps and bruises growing up.” Andy mused, as she passed her the box of biscuits she kept stashed above the fridge and motioned for her to open them, “Though you two just took to sitting there all the time after a while.”

“It’s a good spot.” Evie agreed with a smile, “Though I think Dora had a lot more bumps and bruises over the years.”

“Bumps and bruises, maybe. But she’s just clumsy. You were my little daredevil. Climbing trees and jumping off the roof.” She smiled affectionately as she cupped her cheek.

“Were you ever just tempted to hand me over to Alastor and call it a day?” Evie teased, already knowing the answer to the question.

“Not a day of your life.” She replied, “Though I will say, if Henry takes anything after you, you’re going to have your hands full with his own recklessness. I don’t know how either of you are going to survive for long in that tiny little flat of yours.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine... if I ever actually get to take him home.” She smiled sadly at the aunt who’d become her second mother, “Plus it’s not like we can’t pop back over to the manor or come here when he feels like jumping out of trees.”

“Mark my words, my little daredevil,” Andy laughed, “You’re going to be looking for a new place within a week of bringing him home. You should consider buying the cottage up the road, the one with the orchard.”

Evie’s mind flashed with visions of the little home she’d grown up imagining a life in. It had always reminded her of Jane Austen novels, with its classic english style and fenced-in garden of wildflowers and semi-controlled chaos. She’d often imagine princesses and fairies lived there as a child when she and Dora would peer over the garden wall and make up stories about whoever lived there. It wasn’t until they were older that they learned no one had lived there for a very very long time. 

“The one that looks like something out of a storybook?” Evie asked and Andromeda nodded, the temptation to agree was strong but Evie knew better than to say as much, “Maybe one day.”

The older woman sighed, “One day will come and go if you don’t reach for it yourself from time to time. Either way, it might be a good idea to look into.”

Evie rolled her eyes, “You’re just full of wisdom today, aren’t you Mum?”

“I’m always full of wisdom!” Andy shot back, laughing as she pulled the kettle off the stove and began steeping the tea. She’d taken to doing it the muggle way years ago as a ‘rebellious act against her family’ she had always claimed. Really though, she’d just picked up the habit from Ted and had appreciated how meditative it was to wait for the whistle. 

“I’ll think about it.” She compromised, earning a smile from Andy as she served them both tea. 

“There’s my girl.” Andy replied, handing her the cup and perching on the stool at the bar across from her. “What’s on the rest of your agenda for the day?”

She graciously accepted the tea and began to slowly sip the hot liquid, savoring the taste as it slipped over her tongue and down her throat, “I’ve got a couple of articles I’ve got to put the finishing touches on and I’m heading back to the manor before naptime so I can help get Henry down for his nap.” She hesitated, “His nightmares have been getting worse as of late, I don’t know if it’s just because he’s getting older so he’s understanding more of what happened or what’s going on. But it’s killing me to see him hurting like this.” She looked to Andromeda for advice as she lowered her cup of tea back to its saucer. “What did you and Dad do for me after everything?”

“There wasn’t really much of anything we could do.” She told her, “Most nights one of us would lay with you and it seemed to help, but what really changed things is when we finally put you and Nymphadora in the same room. Even though you had your own beds, you’d often wake up in the same bed curled up around each other.”

Evie smiled at the memories of her and Dora’s refusal to be separated but knew there wasn’t much more she could do in that regard with Henry, “I already spend almost every night at the manor with him.”

“Does he have nightmares after you get there?” Andy asked before nodding to the pendant hanging from her neck, “Or is it just before your charm goes off?”

“He still has them when I’m there but it’s not nearly to the extent that they are when I’m not there.” She fought the ache of guilt in her chest at the thought that it could be her fault that they'd gotten worse, “But, Mum, there’s a reason I’m  _ not _ there all of the time.” 

“Trust me, I’m fully aware of Charlie and Nymphadora’s decision to drag you away.”

Evie was silent for a while before speaking again, “I understand why they did it, you know.” 

“I know you do, my love.” Andy assured her, “Now speaking of Charlie and Nymphadora, do you want to talk about seeing the man whose name is on that jersey when you visited Azkaban today?”

She shook her head, “No… not yet.”

Andy smiled at her getting up to pour another cup of tea, “Well I’m here when you are ready.”

Evie couldn’t help but to voice the question in her head, “How did you even know that I’d seen him?”

“You’re not the only one in our family who’s paid a visit or two to Azkaban.” Andy sighed, a long defeated sound that made Evie’s heart ache for the woman who’d raised her, “I know how it works.”

Neither of them spoke for several moments as her aunt’s admission sunk in.

“Charlie asked if I wanted him to go with me and I almost took him up on it.” Evie confessed,“It would have broken him.”

“I can only imagine.” Andy replied, her eyes glazing over with distant memories of her own trip to the prison, Evie was sure, “It’s not easy seeing the ones you love behind those bars.”

“You went to see Aunt Bella.” Evie realized, the very thought of it freezing the blood pumping through her veins.

“Yes, a very long time ago. I needed answers, after… after everything.” Andy explained, the apology shining in her voice as she admitted to meeting with the woman who’d tortured her parents, “That place has a way of staying in your mind long after you leave. Sometimes I wonder if she was really that crazy or if the time she spent behind the walls of the prison just broke her beyond repair.”

“Was she not always like that?” Evie asked, realizing how incredibly insensitive of a question it was after she’d already voiced it.

“No.” Andy told her, sinking back into her chair with a fresh cup of tea,“Bella always had darkness in her, more so than the rest of us, but it wasn’t until she met Tom Riddle that she truly succumbed to it.” She paused, no doubt struggling under the weight of memories of her sister, “He tortured her to the point of madness, you know. Sometimes I wonder if that's why the Cruciatus became her Unforgivable of choice. So maybe someone would end up just as broken as she was.”

“Do you miss her?” Evie asked her, her voice barely a whisper as she searched for truth in the lines of the older woman’s face.

“I miss the girl she used to be. Before the Dark Lord’s influence.” Andy said, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, hair that made her so similar to the woman who’d spent half her life rotting in prison, “He had a way of taking the most beautiful minds and tearing them to pieces before building them back up as his own masterpiece.”

Evie hesitated, “Do you think that’s what happened to Thorfinn?”

“Maybe.” Andy shrugged and Evie appreciated her candor, “In one way or another, they’re all seduced by something. For Dolohov it wasn’t even for power or prestige or to torture people. It was for the knowledge that Voldemort promised him.”

“How do you know?” She asked incredulously. The thought of her aunt having any idea to the inner workings of the deranged man’s mind, made her stomach turn violently, if she was being quite honest.

Andy smiled sadly at her, “You forget that the two of us were in school together.”

“Were you friends?” Evie asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Andy laughed, “Merlin, no.” She frowned slightly, “Though we did date for a while.”

Evie’s eyes went wide at the revelation, “I thought you didn’t date Slytherins in school?”

“I didn’t.” Andy assured her, “He was a Ravenclaw.”

“But he’s -”

“Evil?”

“I was going to say psychotic, but that works too.” 

Andy stared at her with certain sadness in her eyes, a look very reminiscent to the night she’d been delivered to her doorstep and Dolohov’s actions had been revealed, “He’s always found it hard to turn down the opportunity for knowledge, it’s what got him in the end.” Andy hesitated, “No matter what people say about Voldemort, he was a genius of epic proportions. He was an expert on more magic than someone could learn in seven lifetimes.”

“Do you think their insanity excuses their actions in the war?” She couldn’t help but to wonder her aunt’s thoughts on it, coming from the Black family, the woman had grown up surrounded by people who succumbed to the darkness the Dark Lord seduced people with.

“That’s a tricky question, my love.” Andy explained, delicately sipping on her tea, “As you know, the world isn’t as black and white as people like to make it seem sometimes. We’ve always lived in the shades of grey. Magical folk especially. We look at blood magic as dark magic, but I know many a dark spell that have actually saved a life or brought goodness to the people using it or a light spell that has effectively ended a life.” Andy sighed, “So often the parameters in which we define such magic is limited by the minds scared of the unknown. Just because we don’t understand something doesn’t make it dark. What truly matters is the intent behind the magic.” She paused, “But I’m getting us off topic. What I’m trying to say is that it's tricky trying to define things by good and evil. History is written by the victorious, afterall.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“We’ve all done things that would have landed us in prison had we not won the war.” Andromeda reminded her, “Hell I’m pretty sure the Order in it’s entirity could be executed for war crimes at the least and mass murder and terrorism at the most.” She paused to sip her tea, “Do I think that people like Dolohov should be free to just walk the streets of SoHo in the rain? Without any sort of restrictions? No.” Andy hesitated once more, catching Evie’s eyes as if to gauge her reaction before continuing, “But I do think we should focus more on rehabilitating the people that are locked up and offering them every opportunity to rejoin society rather than locking them up for life and offering a dementor’s kiss as their only way out.”

“You should have seen the top floor.” Evie told her, “I don’t think I’ll ever recover from the cold of it.” She shuddered involuntarily at the thought of it, “How they can keep people there, I’ll never understand. It’s so cruel and inhumane that I actually felt sorry for him.”

“That’s where Bella was kept.” Andy revealed, once more succumbing to the memories of a time long past, “I always snuck blankets in for her, ones wrapped in all of the warming charms I could think of. The sadness and the beauty of the top floor is that unless there’s a visitor, no one goes up there. There’s no one to regulate what blankets they’re given or how many bars of chocolate you’d sneak them.”

Evie thought over her words, surprised at the thought that entered her mind, “If I ever get to go back, will you teach me how to sneak the stuff in?” 

“You want to bring him comfort.” She realized, gazing at her with a look of sadness in her eyes, “Only you, Evie, would be so selfless as to want to care for the man who’s taken so much from you.”

“Do you disapprove?”

“No, my sweet,” Andy stood to wrap her in a hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek before she broke away, “If it were possible I think I’d love you more because of it. But I already love you beyond all comprehension so it’s not possible.” 

“He deserves comfort and safety just as much as the rest of us.” Evie decided, “Just because he’s a criminal doesn’t mean he shouldn’t get basic human rights.

“I’d say I’m inclined to agree with you.”

“He said he knew I was there.” Evie admitted, unable to keep the suspicion from her voice, “That night.” 

Andy’s eyes went wide, “Do you believe him?”

“He knew where I was hiding, Mum.” Evie explained, knowing that Andy wouldn’t be able to offer her any more answers than she already had, “ _ Exactly _ where I was hiding.”

“The only people that knew where you were hiding were your parents and Alastor, Ted and I weren’t even told.” Andy told her, unable to keep the disdain she had for the fact that she’d never been told out of her voice. 

“He says he told Uncle Al where to find me.” Evie revealed.

Andy shook her head, “He’s just making stuff up now.” 

“Alastor confirmed it.”

Andy scrunched up her brow as she tried to wrap her head around the new information,“I don’t understand…” 

“Me either.” 

After that, neither of the women had anything more to offer to the conversation, both of them attempting to reason with the contradiction they’d just been told as they washed their mugs and Evie headed off to the manor once more. Content to spend the afternoon in the company of the little boy who’d stolen her heart as they played through the afternoon and she held him close for naptime, finally succumbing to sleep herself only to be haunted by dreams of Dolohov’s confession. 

“Mummy?” Henry whispered, drawing her out of sleep as he shook her arm with urgency.

“What is it, baby?” She asked drowsily, shaking off sleep as she slowly sat up to face him. 

“I saw a flash.” He whispered to her in the dark of the room, climbing fully back into her arms and looping his hands tightly around her neck as she cuddled him closer. 

“It’s probably nothing.” She assured him with a smile, pressing soft kisses against his hair as he nuzzled back into her chest, taking her at her word as he fell quickly back to sleep.

She, though, had less success in returning to slumber. Laying in the darkened room, she counted Henry’s little breaths as he slept in her arms.  _ How could Dolohov have known where she’d hidden?  _ It just didn’t make sense. No one had known where she’d been hiding. Moody had forced Ted to enact an unbreakable bond so the auror could never reveal the details of that night. And she knew now that he’d put a sort of compulsion charm on her when she was younger to keep her from speaking of the specifics as well. 

_ Why hadn’t he killed her if he’d known she was there? _

That was the question that kept running through her mind. It had been their entire mission, hadn’t it? To wipe the last of the Rosier family completely off the face of the earth? She knew her father had always refused to join the Dark Lord’s cause. He was one of the only of the Sacred Twenty Eight patriarchs to do so. Given that the Rosier family had always straddled the line between dark and light, Voldemort had taken it as a personal offence that they hadn’t pledged their service to him. He had wanted them dead. He had wanted them slaughtered in cold blood.

_ Then why hadn’t he tried to kill her at a later point? _

It’s not like she’d been hiding in the Americas under a false identity or something. She’d been living with her Aunt and Uncle in England. She’d gone to school with too many future Death Eaters to count. He’d had every opportunity to strike her down. And yet he hadn’t. Why hadn’t he? It’s not like anyone had known of the protection cast on her until the Battle of The Department of Mysteries. And even then, Dolohov hadn’t been intending to curse her. He’d been aiming for Hermione.

_ It was peculiar indeed. _

She kept turning it over in her mind until naptime ended and Henry insisted on being held for the entirety of the afternoon. She didn’t mind the clinginess, it wasn't unusual for him to hang off of her for the entire time she was in the manor, but today there was almost a desperation behind it as if he knew of his father’s denial and needed the reassurance that she wouldn’t be leaving him. If she was being honest, she needed the reassurance too.

Henry turned down every opportunity to play with the other boys, a very rare thing for him, until Evie had promised that she wouldn’t leave while he played. She had assured him that she wasn’t leaving until the morning but it didn’t matter. His anxiousness over her impending departure only got worse as bedtime grew nearer. He screamed and cried and absolutely refused to fall asleep despite his obvious exhaustion. Finally, forgoing their usual routine, she settled the two of them in one of the rocking chairs in the downstairs sunroom.

“Henry, baby, what’s going on?” She had asked him as he stared up at her with tear-filled eyes, eyes that were a perfect match for his father’s. She’d been scared that, after seeing their similarities, she’d be unable to look at her son the same way. But if anything, she just loved him more. As if seeing how broken his father was had reminded her just how much her son had been through, how much comfort and love he deserved.

“Don’t leave me, Mummy.” He whispered, the fear in his voice shaking her to her core. Never in her life had she heard something so utterly heartbreaking.

“I’m not leaving you, baby.” She assured him, pressing kisses against his cheek and wrapping her arms tighter around him, “I’m never going to leave you, okay?”

“Daddy said that too.” He whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the room, and she froze. Henry barely spoke of his father anymore, as if he was subconsciously blocking out that whole portion of his life. Sometimes Evie didn’t know if it was a good thing or not. Even with her own complicated, for lack of a better word, history with the ex-Death Eater, she knew how much Henry loved his father and she knew how much Dolohov loved his son. And given that, she’d always refused to ruin the image the little boy had of his father.

“Your Daddy did some bad things.” Evie began, choosing her words carefully as she held him close, “He had to go away for a while to deal with the consequences. Like a time out of sorts.” She hesitated, “Even though Daddy might not be here right now, I promise that he’ll never truly leave you, my love.” She gathered his little hand in her palm and held it over his heart, “He’ll always be right here in your heart, Henry.”

“I miss Daddy.” He cried softly, burying his face against her neck as she rocked him back and forth in the chair.

“I know, baby. I know you do.” She whispered, hating the man even more for being so undeserving of his son’s love, “And I know that he misses you too.”

“He does?” Henry asked, looking up at her with hopeful, tear-filled eyes. She knew in that moment that she would never have it in her heart to take that hope away from him.

“Of course he does.” She told him, knowing deep in her bones that no matter the man’s crimes, it was the truth, “I bet he thinks about you all of the time and wishes he could just wrap you up in a hug just like this.”

“Daddy gives the best hugs.” Henry whispered, snuggling deeper into her embrace, “He’d throw me up in the air and spin me around and then hug me really tight and give me all the kisses.”

“I’ll have to take your word on it, baby.”

No matter how hard she tried, she could not reconcile the man she knew to torture her parents with the same man who’d raised the little boy in her arms for the first part of his life. How could someone so inherently evil love a child so? How could Dolohov look his son in the eyes and then go off to maim and murder in the name of the Dark Lord?

“Mummy?” Henry asked, interrupting her thought process.

“Hmm?”

“You give the best hugs too.” He said it with such honesty and conviction as he curled his arms tighter around her neck that she couldn’t stop the tears that spilled from her eyes. 

“You think so?” She asked him, careful not to let him see her tears.

He nodded against her, “You give soft and squishy hugs. And you always smell like cookies. Can we make cookies, Mumma?” 

“Maybe another time.” She replied with a soft laugh, “You need to sleep now.”

He leaned back to face her, “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“I’ve got to go back to my flat, love.” She told him, hating the heartbreak in his eyes, “But I’ll be here in the morning, okay?”

“I wish you never had to go.” He admitted, frowning up at her, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Me too, baby.” She whispered, reaching up to brush one of his curls out of eyes.

“Then why do you?”

She sighed in defeat, wishing like hell that she could just gather him up and bring him home with her instead of being forced to explain to him why she couldn't, “Because even though I love you more than all the stars in the sky and fish in the sea, legally I can’t take you home yet.”

“Why not?”

Evie smiled at him, “Because there’s a bunch of rules we have to follow for that to happen.” She explained “But don’t worry, baby, one day soon I'm going to be able to adopt you and then I'll never have to leave you again.”

“Like with Shiloh and Rhys?” He asked after the two kids that had been most recently adopted. 

“Like Shiloh and Rhys.” She agreed, rubbing circles across his small back as he laid his head back on her shoulder.

“Does that mean Daddy won’t be my Daddy anymore?” His voice was barely audible as he asked the question she wished had never crossed his mind. The little boy had been through too much already in his life, too much pain. Children should never have to ask such questions like that.

She swiped at the tears on her cheeks, “No baby, Daddy will always be your Daddy.”

“What if he doesn’t want me anymore?” He asked and her heart broke yet again.

“Your Daddy will _always_ want you, I promise.” She assured him, putting every bit of conviction she had into the words, “He loves you just as much as I love you and if he could, I know he would stop at nothing to be here with you right now.”

“I wish he was here.” Henry admitted as she pressed a kiss to his temple, she could see how his eyes were drooping with exhaustion.

“I know you do, baby.” She whispered, resuming the rocking of the chair, “But you need to try and get some sleep now, okay?” 

He nodded and laid his head back against her chest, falling asleep so quickly it was as if he’d never fought it in the first place. She dimmed the lamp next to them with a flick of her wrist and summoned a book from the library as his even breaths tickled her neck. They stayed there all night, curled in the oversized rocker until the morning sun awoke them both from sleep. 

When she had to leave after breakfast, Henry still cried but allowed himself to be left behind. As she stumbled into her own flat she ignored her own tears and buried herself in the articles she’d been working on, pulling sessions well into the night as she pushed all thoughts of her son and his father and her brother from her mind. She hardly slept, she didn’t eat, she barely even moved from her spot at her desk until late Sunday night when Charlie broke through her wards and dragged her out from her half-lucid state at her desk.

“Tell me what happened.” He demanded.

“Nothing happened.”

“I haven’t heard from you in days and you missed Sunday dinner.” He countered, crossing his arms as he stared down at her, unmoved from her chair at her desk.

“No, I didn't.” She argued, 

“Yes you did.” Charlie insisted, crouching down in front of her, “Evie, you never miss it and you never showed tonight.”

“It’s Sunday?” She asked, her eyes flying to the calendar on her desk, not that it would be any help, she hadn’t flipped the thing since Monday.

“Yes, I left early to check on you.” He told her, “Dora wanted to come too, but Teddy’s got a little cold and with the full moon tomorrow she was needed at home. Now you’re going to tell me what happened at the prison.”

“Charlie…” She didn’t want to tell him of her interaction with Thorfinn. She didn’t want him to know the pain she was sure it would cause.

“I can take it.” He assured her, “Andromeda’s already told us about Dolohov’s refusal, but she refused to tell us anything else. So go take a shower, I’ll make some tea and we can eat the food Mum sent over while we talk.”

She nodded in defeat, recognizing that she wasn’t going to be able to get out of this one and headed off to the bathroom to bathe. She had to admit, the spray of the hot water beating down on her was heavenly. It was as if it had magical properties, waking her from the daze she’d entered into in the last few days. 

After washing her hair and scrubbing off three days worth of grime from her body she slipped into a clean set of sweats and made her way back to the kitchen where Charlie was dishing out Molly’s delicious cooking onto two plates and setting it on the table next to two glasses and a fresh bottle of firewhiskey.

“Liquid courage.” He explained at the slight lift of her brow in the direction of the liquor.

“You know I hate firewhiskey.”

“We both do,” He agreed, “But there’s still nothing better suited for getting us drunk and forcing us into spilling our guts.”

She laughed slightly as they both sat down to eat at her kitchen table, the sound of it feeling foreign on her tongue, “You’re counting on it to do its job aren’t you?”

He leveled her with a glare across the small table, “I’m counting on my best friend to tell me everything because that’s what we _ do _ for each other. We help shoulder the burden, you  _ know _ that.”

She sighed, too focused on eating the meal in front of her to speak. He seemed to realize that and didn’t push her as they ate their respective dinners in silence. But when their plates had been magically cleared and cleaned, Melin bless Molly Weasley and her insistence that they learn household charms and spells, and their glasses filled she began.

“I saw him.” She told him finally.

He sighed, leaning back in the chair, “I figured.”

“I thought I’d be able to handle it.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave her time to work up the courage to tell him everything that occured. And slowly she did.

She told him how he looked and how they fought, how he insisted it would all make sense one day. How he had almost not said anything until he saw his name on her back. She told him of how he’d wrestled with himself and how resigned he looked to his fate. How Alastor had tried to drag her away. How she’d broken down in the stairwell afterwards.

“He apologized.” She whispered, tears leaking out of her eyes, “To me, to Dora, to you.” 

Charlie reached for the whiskey to pour both of them another glass as she continued to speak of their interaction.

“He was so familiar in so many ways, Charlie.” She told him, accepting the glass once more, “In so many ways it was like he hadn’t changed at all.” 

Neither of them spoke for a long time after that, content to process the long overdue apology in the private silence of their own thoughts.Internally she wrestled with telling him what ele Thorfinn had told her. The only request he had made of her. Despite her insistence that she wouldn’t, she knew that she had to. She had to tell him what he’d said.

“He told me to tell you…” She hesitated, for once recognizing that she had no idea of knowing how Charlie would react to the revelation. 

“To tell me what?” He asked, his eyes sharp as he held her gaze.

“Charlie…” She pleaded with him, she didn’t want to be the one to break him. She didn’t want to risk hurting him anymore than he already was.

“I want to know Evie.” He insisted, his voice low and deadly. 

“It’s not fair of him to say such things.” She warned him, already knowing that her plea would do no good. 

“Life isn’t fair, Evie” He reminded her, downing his glass of whiskey, “Tell me what he said.”

The beats of silence filled the space between them, she counted the breaths before she spoke.

_ One. _

_ Two. _

_ Three. _

_ Four. _

“That he loves you more than anything in the entire world.” She whispered, searching his eyes for any emotion as she spoke, registering the look of devastation and heartbreak in his eyes, “That if he could go back in time and change everything just to be with you, he would.”

Charlie didn’t say anything for a moment, as if he was trying to wrap his mind around the confession. Evie watched him openly as he set his mouth in a hard line and stared down at the empty glass in front of him. The waves of tension rolling off of him seemed to increase the longer they sat there. She knew she had to say something to drag him out of his own thoughts. She knew how self-destructive they could be.

“Charlie…” She pleaded with him.

He threw his glass against the fall so forcefully that the windows shook with the explosion of glass. She flinched at the sound of it, but let him express the anger as he stood from his seat at the table and paced the kitchen, his shoulders coiled in rage as he threw the chair he’d been sitting in and slammed his fist through the wall.

“Charlie.” She called out to him once more, standing carefully from her own seat and crossing the room slowly towards him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder as he seethed, “I know you’re hurting, love.”

He turned to face her, the tension draining out of his face as he locked eyes with her, unable to hide the tears welling in his gaze. Without warning he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, slumping against her as he sobbed for the man he loved. In that moment, all she wanted to do was murder Thorfinn for breaking Charlie’s heart like this. 

_ How could he hurt the man he loved like this? How could he handle the guilt of it all? _

She led her friend to the couch in the living room and summoned the liquor over to them, foregoing the need for glasses as she raised the bottle to her lips and drank a long drink of firewhiskey, wincing as it burned her throat on the way down.

She offered him the bottle and he took it, taking a long swig of his own as they sat in the silence of the room. Neither of them spoke as they passed the bottle back and forth and eventually succumbed to sleep on the couch much later in the night. Thoughts of Thorfinn filled both of their heads as they slumbered on the couch, leaning into one another for the only comfort they had, each other. 

It wasn’t until her stomach revolted against her that she awoke the next morning, rushing to the bathroom to throw up the dinner and drink from the night before as she cursed the firewhiskey she hated so much. 

As she made her way into the kitchen in search of the stash of hangover potions she kept handy, she clutched her head to relieve the ridiculous pounding of her brain. Opening the cabinets above the refrigerator, she sighed in relief when she saw the potion and quickly downed it in one gulp grabbing another one to leave out for Charlie as she made her way back to the bathroom to shower. Taking the time to wash off the haze of alcohol as the potion worked it’s magic. 

When Charlie burst into the bathroom to throw up the contents of his own stomach on the other side of the shower curtain she was finally starting to feel like herself again.

“There’s a hangover potion on the coffee table.” She told him, refusing to move from under the hot spray of the shower as he groaned loudly from his probable spot on the floor. 

“I’ve got it, My stomach just rebelled before I could drink it.” He said, his voice groggy and scratchy as he spoke, “You’ve got a letter, by the way. The damn owl woke me up with it’s incessant tapping at the window.”

“Who’s it from?” She asked, moving to finish shaving her legs as she heard him start brushing his teeth with the spare toothbrush he kept under her sink.

“Dunno.” He said, the sound of it muffled by the toothbrush. “It’s got the Azkaban insignia on it.”

“Read it to me?” She requested.

“Hold on.” He mumbled, finishing cleaning his teeth before reading out the letter over the sound of the shower, “It says, ‘Miss Rosier, I have thought over our conversation and have some questions for you. The Minister has given his permission for you to visit once more, today at ten.’ Signed Antonin Dolohov.”

She froze under the spray of hot water, “He wants to see me again?” She mumbled almost to herself and turned off the water, reaching for the towel on the hook and wrapping it around her before stepping out of the shower.

Charlie was beginning to floss his teeth as she walked past him into her room to dress, “Are you going to go?” He asked, removing the string from his mouth to speak.

“Of course I’m bloody going to go!” She shouted, instantly regretting raising her voice as they both groaned and clutched at their heads. After all, there was only so much potions could do. If only there were ones, legal ones at least, that could force a convicted criminal to give up his rights to his child. But she knew, even if such potions existed, that she needed to do this the honest way. She needed to convince the man who’d murdered her parents that she was the one that his son needed. She needed to get his approval without cheating.

And she wasn’t going to leave until he changed his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OoOoh. What do y'all think Dolohov's hiding about that night? Let me know in the comments below.
> 
> Also, kudos and comments are literally like the air I need to breathe because I'm a total slut for love and appreciation because #daddyissues and my biggest fear is disappointing people (especially the random people on the internet who read my writing).
> 
> But at the end of the day, I love y'all even if you don't comment on my chapters.
> 
> Stay safe out there, my loves.


	5. And That Would Show You, That Would Make You Hurt Like Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more for you today because I'm blocked and procrastinating on Let The Sunlight In and I figured we all deserve a little joy during these tough times.
> 
> As usual, I own nothing. If I did, the Black Widow movie would have come out like a decade ago.
> 
> No beta because I'm a total mess.

After stopping by Andromeda’s for the trick of how to sneak stuff into Azkaban she headed back to the prison. Surprisingly, no one was there to greet her this time and Alastor was nowhere to be found. When she asked the guard about it, he told her the Kingsley had arranged for her to have access to the prison without a chaperone. Giving her access to the wards while she was there and allowing her the freedom to visit without the prying eyes of a young Auror or guard. 

She couldn’t hide her surprise at his decision. What had changed between the last time she had been and now that her uncle would go from refusing to allow her to go anywhere without him to giving her basically free range of the prison? 

She decided not to dwell on it, lest he manifest next to her and whisk her away to the safety of her flat in a fury of the protectiveness he’d become known for. 

She refocused on the guard in front of her, “So what do I need to do to get through the doors?”

“As long as no one else is with you, miss, all you have to do is walk through.” He told her as if it was obvious, “Now even though you’ve been cleared by the Head Auror and the Minister himself, I’m still obliged to ask you, are you bringing any contraband into the prison?”

She held up her hands, grateful that Andy had placed an undetectable extension charm on her coat pockets, “Definitely not.” She assured him with her most innocent smile. 

“Very well.” He said looking down at his notes and reading off the rest of it, “Since Auror Moody was the one that took you to the  _ monster’s _ cage last time, you shouldn’t have to bleed onto the lock -” He broke off and looked up at her startled, “You’re going into the cage with him?”

“Yes I am.”

The man was as pale as a ghost as he looked down at her, “The Minister must have a lot of faith in you.” He told her, his anxiety over the situation quite clear as he spoke, “No one, not even the guards are allowed up on that level, let alone in his cage. No one other than the Head Auror and the Minister of himself are ever allowed to go up there. If something happens up there, we cannot offer you assistance.”

She wasn’t surprised by that statement, though she had to admit she was intrigued. There was no way Kingsley was pulling all of these strings just so she could adopt Henry, something else had to be at play.

Despite her curiosity she smiled reassuringly at him, “Understood. May I head on up?”

He nodded and she thanked him before beginning her ascension to the top floor, ignoring the catcalls and curses being thrown at her on every floor she passed, completely opposite of her time spent in the prison with Alastor at her side. As she reached the high security level, she stopped to steady her breathing before walking confidently through the corridor, silencing anyone who spoke against her with a nothing more than a disarming smile.

“Sorry boys, but you’re just not worth the effort.” She told them as she walked swiftly towards the far door and up the staircase beyond it, ignoring how Thorfinn’s eyes followed her as she passed and pushing the memories of the night before far from her mind.

When she reached the top floor she pushed open the doors easily and walked carefully down the cold hallway, thankful that she’d had the foresight to cast a temperature regulating charm over her clothes as she made her way to his cell.

“I see you got my message.” Dolohov smirked at her from his spot leaning casually against the wall atop his bed, a far cry from his position on his knees the last time she arrived. Even the chains were gone as he lounged freely on top of the covers in his threadbare prison robes. 

“I’ll admit, I’m curious how you even managed to send one?” She told him, not yet letting herself into the cell.

“I have my ways.” He shrugged, standing from his spot on the dingy bed and crossing the cell to face her from the opposite side of the bars, “No dear  Uncle Al this morning?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can.” He smirked, his complete personality change from the last time she was here intriguing her further as neither of them moved from their spots on opposite sides of the gate, “Are you going to come in,  _ Kukolka _ ?”

She sighed and opened the gate, catching his raised eyebrow as she swung the gate open and stepped through,  “You asked to see me.” She reminded him, crossing her arms across her chest as the gate slammed shut behind her.

“That I did.” He agreed with a calculated smirk, stepping just in front of her and motioned to the heavy wooden table and chairs to his right, “Sit.”

She figured she’d have better luck if she didn’t argue and took a seat in the hard and extremely uncomfortable chair, “So what do you want to know?” She demanded, pushing down her anxiety as he lowered himself into his own chair and stared at her.

“Why my son?” He asked finally, his expression carefully guarded, save the suspicion in his eyes.

She couldn’t help but smile at the question, “Because he chose me.” She answered him, earning a look of surprise from the hardened Death Eater as she began to explain, “When I first saw Henry he was lying unconscious in a hospital bed in Saint Mungos. I’d been called in by the healers as the director and founder of the new children’s home and I knew the very first moment I saw him that he was different, that he was special. We just clicked, you know?” 

“I stayed with him through the night, refusing to leave him for anything as he fought to stay alive. He was so broken, he was barely breathing.” She watched as the look of guilt passed over his face, she wished that seeing his obvious anger and helplessness would make her feel better, but if anything it just made her heart ache worse, she could see in that flash of emotion how much the man loved his son, “If they’d been even a second later to rescue him from whatever hole the dark lord kept him in, he wouldn’t be alive today.”

He watched her from beneath his mask of emotion with narrowed eyes as she spoke, his arms crossed over his expansive chest as she told him more of her first meeting with his son.

“When he woke up he climbed right into my arms and told me it was going to be okay.” She continued, smiling sadly at the memory of that night, “This little baby who’d been tortured by the Dark Lord himself, and had almost died because of it, was reassuring me that everything would be alright. And In that moment, he stole the rest of my heart and I realized that I never wanted to get it back. He’s been my everything ever since.”

“You didn’t care that he was my son?” Dolohov asked, the suspicion still shining in his eyes.

She fidgeted slightly under his gaze, “For the longest time I didn't even know he was yours.” She admitted, “But no, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Dolohov sighed heavily, as if the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders, “Is he okay now?”

She nodded, “Physically, yes. He’s a little small for his age, but he’s healthy and growing and playing just as much as he should be.” She hesitated, looking up at the man who’d taken so much from her, “But being tortured by Voldemort left a lot of invisible scars. He has nightmares almost every night and is absolutely terrified of being left behind. He carries a lot more pain than any child his age should  _ ever _ be asked to.”

“It’s my fault.” The man admitted, earning her brief look of shock as she took in his words.

She faltered, holding his gaze as he stared at her, as if he was daring her to blame him as well. On one hand, she knew that the man was responsible for more death and carnage than many could ever dream of achieving in several lifetimes, but on the other she could see that he was a father who loved his son and struggled under the weight of responsibility for The Dark Lord’s torture of him. 

She latched onto that thought as she refused to break his stare, “He loves you anyways.” She told him softly, ignoring his implication of fault as she reassured the man she’d always thought deserved to die an agonizing death, “He used to cry for you every night. He still does sometimes, the other night he refused to fall asleep because he was scared I was going to leave like you had.”

He studied her, searching her eyes for any hint of malice or dishonesty as silence filled the space between them, “I’m sure you tell him all about how terrible I am and fill his mind with all of the reasons he shouldn’t want to be my son.” He said, finally.

“No, Antonin. I would never do that.” She assured him, though she didn’t know why she chose to use his given name when she spoke, it was as if her mind was trying to seperate the man in front of her from the one who’d killed her parents all of those years ago, “I tell him you’ve made some mistakes and have to face the consequences that come with them, but I tell him that you’d be there with him in a heartbeat if you could.” She watched as his eyes flashed with an emotion she didn’t recognize and his mouth set into a hard line, “We might have an extremely fucked up history between us, Antonin, but he doesn’t need to know that. He’s just a little boy who loves and misses his father. I would never dream of taking that away from him.”

He seemed to consider that as he continued to stare at her, “Will you tell me about him?” He asked a moment later. 

She smiled, the first genuine one she’d given him, “What do you want to know?” 

“It’s been so long since…” He trailed off, ducking his head slightly before continuing, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen him when he wasn’t writhing on the ground in pain. Just tell me anything.”

She smiled sadly at the man, recognizing his desperation for hearing more about his son, she could see how much his absence from his life killed him, “He’s a little ball of energy.” She told him with a hint of laughter in her voice as she recalled her son’s enthusiasm for life, “He’s into absolutely  _ everything _ and follows the older boys around like they’re gods. He wants to do everything that they can do, regardless of how reckless it is.” She paused thinking about his obsession with quidditch and every injury he’d gotten from the sport trying to prove he was just as good as the big boys. Taking a moment to imagine what life would be like when she finally got to bring him home. He watched her patiently waiting for her to reveal more as she lost herself for a moment in that hope.

“He’s the smartest little boy too, and so sensitive.” She continued, pushing down the hope that bubbled in her throat, “He’ll tell you in a heartbeat if he doesn’t agree with something you say. And he’s such a precocious little thing, with the biggest blue eyes you’ve ever seen,  _ your _ eyes actually, and blonde little curls and dimples to match. And his smile, Antonin, that smile could melt the heart of the devil himself.” She didn’t know why she was describing his looks as if he'd never seen him before, but it just felt right. 

“He loves arts and crafts and music,  _ Merlin,  _ does he love music. But not the children’s crap, no he likes Queen and Bowie and Tom Petty and The Beatles.” She laughed as she remembered their dance parties in the living room, “If anyone in the whole world has taste, it's that little boy. He’s perfect, Antonin. He’s a right menace sometimes and a fearless little daredevil as well, but I wouldn’t have him any other way.”

Antonin eyed her curiously as she spoke, absorbing every word she told him of his son without saying a word. As if speaking would cause her to stop.

She smiled reassuringly at him, silently promising him that she wanted to tell him everything she could about the little boy that still called him Daddy, “Sometimes he’ll refuse to be put down for days at a time and want to be cuddled and held for hours upon hours, and I love those moments with every ounce of my being. There’s nothing that comes close to the feeling of him curled up in my arms trusting me to keep him safe.”

“It was the best feeling in the world.” He agreed, his voice soft with emotion, something she’d never believed him to have as he urged her to continue on.

“After I left here last week, I went back to the manor. He’d had a really rough day. He refused to sleep for so long I thought he was just going to collapse where he stood, so I took him down to the sunroom in the middle of the night and asked him what was bothering him.” She held his gaze as she spoke, refusing to acknowledge the surreality of their calm conversation as she continued, “He told me he missed your  _ hugs _ , Antonin. He told me how you’d wrap him up in your arms and swing him around before pulling him close and covering him in kisses. He said that we give the best hugs in the world, but with how he described them, they’re complete opposites of each other. He said he missed you, Antonin. He  _ cried _ in my arms over how much he missed his father.”

He didn’t say anything but continued holding her gaze, his eyes darkening with emotion as he listened to her speak of his son.

She hesitated, “You may have done terrible things in this life, Antonin. You may have sold your soul to the devil in service to Tom Riddle, but you were, you  _ are _ , a wonderful father despite all of that. Henry’s love for you proves that much.” She reached into her pocket fishing for one of the items she’d brought the man as she rushed to get to the prison that morning.

Pulling out the little slip of paper, she laid it face up on the table in front of him.   


He stared down at the photograph, fingering it’s edges in his hand as the form of Henry danced across the page covered in mud and grinning like a madman, “Is this...” 

She nodded, “I took it last week. He’d just finished playing quidditch and was a total mess, as you can see.” She smiled as she caught sight of her son’s own smile flashing up at the camera, “I thought you might want to keep it.”

He crossed his arms over his chest once more, leaving the photo resting on the table, “I’m not allowed contraband.” He said as if he had ever been one to follow the rules.

She snorted indelicately, “Then I guess you don't want the other half a dozen things I snuck in here for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Careful,  _ Kukolka.  _ You could end up locked in here with me if you’re caught .”

She rolled her eyes and pulled the remainder of items from her pockets, “Then the trick is not getting caught. Besides, the only other people allowed up here are my Uncle and Kingsley and they’d both sooner castrate themselves than lock me up in here with you.” She placed one thing after another on the table, a blanket layered with several warming and protection charms, a stack of books, a miniature lantern, and a small tin of cookies that Henry had decorated which she motioned to as she spoke, “Henry decorated those, I thought you might enjoy them.”

He reached for the tin, curiosity shining in his dark eyes as he carefully removed the lid from the box revealing the mess of christmas cookies inside, “Are you trying to bribe me into letting you adopt my son?”

She laughed once more, “Is it working?” She teased before shaking her head, “No, I’m not trying to bribe you.” She promised him, sobering at the thought, “Honestly, I was horrified after leaving the place last time and seeing the conditions of this cell. No one deserves to be kept in a place like this, not even you.”

Neither of them said anything for a beat.

“Anyone else would probably say I do deserve it,  _ Solnyshka _ .”

“I’m not anyone.”

“No, you’re not.” He winced slightly, as if he was trying to decide what to say next, “You’re the one I’ve hurt the most.”

“You’ve taken so much from me Antonin, but it doesn’t mean you deserve my hatred.” She told him, “Andromeda reminded me that we all make choices when it comes to war and that had your side won, I’d probably be the one locked in this cell, not you.”

“No, you’re far too good for that.” He said, holding her gaze as he spoke, “ _ YA mog by ubit' tebya. YA pochti sdelal. _ ”

Though she didn’t speak the language, Evie understood the point he was making, “We all have darkness in us, Antonin.”

“Me more than most, Evangeline.” He argued, “You should hate me for the things I’ve done.”

“Yet I do not.” She replied, surprised to find that it was the truth.

His eyes flickered to her belly where they both knew his mark rested, “Does it hurt you?”

She nodded, “Sometimes.”

If she were being truly honest, there were times she woke up in the middle of the night crippled with the searing pain that burned through her abdomen. She’d been to more healers than she could count, looking for a countercurse for the dark spell that felt constantly aflame.

“I never meant for it to hit you.”

“No, you meant for it to hit a child who was fighting in the stead of a monster sending children to die for him.” It had been her biggest issue with the great wizard, how he sent kids to fight his battles for him. How the rest of the world were just pawns on a chessboard, pieces that you could sacrifice without a second thought, “She would have  _ died  _ if I hadn’t taken it instead.”

“Still, I will never forgive myself for hurting you.”

Neither of them spoke for several moments as his admission weighed heavily between them.

“Why didn’t you hurt me that night?” Evie blurted out the question that had been nudging at her thoughts since she’d left the last time, “Why didn’t you kill me too?”

His features hardened as he broke her gaze, glancing up at the ceiling of the cell briefly in what looked like a prayer before meeting her gaze once more,“What do you remember of that night,  _ Kukolka _ ?” He asked, his voice low and deadly, but undoubtedly curious as he searched her own eyes for answers.

She hesitated, wondering if it was really such a good idea to tell the man who’d caused her so much pain of her memories from that night, “I remember my mother shoving me into a wall when the wards fell and you torturing the both of them with Bellatrix before killing them sometime after dawn.” She tried to keep her voice even as she spoke, refusing to let the emotion of the memories overwhelm her.

“It is interesting that the memory charm hasn’t worn off yet...” Dolohov mused, cocking his head as he took in her reaction to his statement.

It certainly caught her attention, “What memory charm?” She asked him, ignoring the rational part of her that screamed that he couldn’t be trusted.

He narrowed his eyes in her direction, venom filling his voice as he spoke, “You should ask your dear Uncle Alastor.” 

She swallowed heavily, biting back the questions she was dying to ask him and rising from her chair, “I think I should go now, Dolohov.”

“Do you love my son?” He asked, not moving from his spot as she made her way back to the door.

She turned to face him, tears burning in her eyes, “More than anything in the world.” She promised him before unlocking the gate and stepping through.

“Will you tell him something for me?” He asked and she nodded reluctantly, “Tell him,  _ YA lyublyu tebya, syn moy. _ ”

She repeated it back to him, making sure she spoke the words correctly, “Anything else?” She asked, wanting nothing more than to run as far away from this man as fast as she could as she watched him stand from the table and cross the room to her.

He stopped directly in front of her, cornering her once more against the gate of the door before he spoke, “Come back next week and I’ll give you my answer.” He told her and her heart suddenly felt like it was going to burst with excitement at the unexpected request.

She smiled genuinely at the man, tears streaking down her cheeks, “Thank you.” 

She couldn’t hide her excitement as she stepped out of the cell and made her way back through the prison and down to the traveling room, pushing all thoughts of the night her parents were killed far from her mind.

She had a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kukolka - Little Doll
> 
> Solnyshka - Small Sun, Sunshine
> 
> YA mog by ubit' tebya. YA pochti sdelal. - I could have killed you. I almost did.
> 
> YA lyublyu tebya, syn moy. - I love you, my son.
> 
> (all of the translations are from google so ignore the imperfections, please)  
> ***
> 
> Gah, I love y'all so much! Thanks for reading and please know just how much your comments, kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks, and even just hits mean to me. Y'all are truly the best. 
> 
> Stay safe out there, my loves.


	6. They Sold You A Bridge, They Fed You The Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, its acceptable to drink tequila at 9am and eat breakfast at midnight. 
> 
> That being said, even though I've done neither of these, my days are all mixed up with social distancing and I thought today was Monday (it's technically Thursday now... I think). Sorry that it's late. Is it late? I don't even know at this point.
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did, I'd have more twitter followers to laugh at my hilarity. (humble, I know).
> 
> Also, per usual, this is barely edited. I'm working on fixing it, pinky swear.
> 
> Without further ado, I present to you, Chapter Six of Sins of The Father.

Two days later, Evangeline found herself in Dora’s living room as the two of them loaded up the diaper bag and readied the stroller to head out to lunch. She’d spent the time following her trip to the prison losing herself once more in her work and avoiding her uncle. It wasn’t hard to do, the man was a recluse when he wasn’t working, preferring to hide away in his seaside cottage on the northern shores of Scotland, far away from the masses of people who looked to him for leadership in the changing times. 

Even though she did everything she could not to dwell on her conversation with Antonin Dolohov, she couldn’t block out the words he’d spoken from her mind. 

_ The memory charm hasn’t worn off yet. _

Those seven words burned through her brain, regardless of what she did to block them out. She’d started researching memory charms over the last few days, borrowing books from the Black library and slaving over their pages as hours passed by. His words had haunted her over the past few days, sinking into her mind and picking at its corners like a kid picking at a scab. 

“Have you heard from Charlie lately?” Dora asked, interrupting her thoughts, as she settled a bundled up Teddy into his stroller and layered blankets on top of him.

“Not since he left Monday morning.” She told her, wrapping her scarf around her neck as they prepared to step out onto the streets of Hogsmeade. 

In all honesty, she’d spent a great deal of time worrying over their best friend as well, the past few days. She’d known that he would need some space to sort out his thoughts after everything she’d told him, but she didn’t want to leave him alone for too long. She and Dora both knew how self-destructive he could be when he was struggling with something. 

“Tell him to meet us for lunch, and that we’re not taking no for an answer.” Dora decided, donning her own coat and moving to push the stroller out the front door.

Evie nodded, following her out onto the streets of Hogsmeade as she clutched the dragonhide in her pocket and thought out her message to Charlie, asking him to meet them at The Three Broomsticks in fifteen minutes.

“You’ve been quiet today.” Dora told her as they walked along the snow covered streets and smiled at the sight of the Christmas decorations framing the shops and houses on their way to the pub.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind.” She told her, not wanting to speak of her interaction with the incarcerated death eater.

“Well you know I’m here if you want to tell me what’s really going on.” Dora told her, unsurprisingly seeing straight through her vague statement but respecting the fact that she wasn’t ready to talk about it. It was one of the things she loved most about the woman walking next to her. She was the closest thing she’d ever had to a sister and Evie wouldn’t trade her friendship for the world.

“I know, Dora.” She agreed, shooting her a smile as they trudged along down the cobbled streets, “I’ll tell you everything soon, I promise.”

“Damn right you will.” Dora assured her with a smile of her own, knocking her hip into Evie’s as they reached the pub.

“Is Remus joining us today?” She asked after the Hogwarts professor, not a very subtle change of subject as they entered through the door and headed for their favored booth in the back. It was the same one they’d claimed in their Hogwarts years and she couldn’t help but to cherish all of the good memories they’d had there everytime they came back.

Dora locked the wheels on the stroller and climbed into the booth, shrugging off her coat as she did so, “He should be.” She told her, “Though he said he might be running a minute or two late. He’s got first years before lunch today and you know how much of a disaster they can be before the holidays.”

She laughed, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw Charlie enter into the pub and make his way over to them, giving them each a hug hello as he slid into the booth next to Evie, “What’s so funny?” He asked, smiling as he reached over to tickle Teddy’s belly.

“Remus had first years before lunch.”

“Oh the poor man.” Charlie shook his head, “Who wants to bet he’s going to finally agree to run off to Romania with me after dealing with those deviants?”

“Quit trying to seduce my husband.” 

“Why, are you scared it might work?” Charlie teased with a smirk.

“Yes, and I worked much too hard to trap him the first time.” Dora replied with her usual snark, “I don’t want to have to do it again.”

“I thought I was the one trapping you?” Came the amused voice of Remus as he slid into the booth next to his wife, “Did you not notice the love potions I was constantly slipping into your tea?”

“Of course, why else do you think I refused to drink it?’ She teased right back, pressing a kiss to his cheek as the four of them laughed.

“Because he makes shit tea.” Charlie teased under his breath, earning a swat from Evie and a laugh from Remus.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” He began, using his professor's voice that would have almost worked if not for the shit eating grin lighting up his face, “Never make good tea for someone else, otherwise you’ll always end up having to make it again and again.”

“You learned that from Sirius, didn’t you?” 

“Of course I did.” Remus assured them with a laugh,“But I’ll let you in on a little secret, you want a good cup of tea, ask Sirius to make it. The man’s a total snob about it and refuses to drink anything but the perfect pot.”

Dora rolled her eyes, “He’s such a drama queen.” 

“We still love him though.” Evie reminded her friend with a grin.

“I’d love him even more if he stopped crashing through my Floo at all hours of the night, in an attempt to escape all of the women he charms into coming home with him.” Dora grumbled.

“Darling you knew when you asked me to marry you, that Sirius and I came as a pair.”

“Excuse you, but I do believe you were the one on your knees that night.”

“Well if we’re talking about being on our knees, I’m fairly sure we were both -”

“Oi! I don’t want to hear this!” Charlie interrupted him loudly, jarring the witch who was bringing their food over to them, “That’s basically my sister you’re talking about.” 

“Hey!” Dora shot back, as Evie thanked the server and apologized for her friends’ behavior, “If I had to put up with hearing you and Thor wax poetic about each other for seven years, you can handle hearing about my husband’s brilliant tongue and how he licks my-”

Remus silenced her with a kiss, his usual tactic of stopping her from oversharing.

“Why did I agree to come to lunch with you imbeciles?” Charlie asked no one in particular, before turning to dig into the meal in front of him. They’d been ordering the same thing for so long that Rosemerta didn’t even bother sending someone to take their order anymore, instead electing to just put their usual order in and send it over before a fight broke out. That woman was a saint.

“Because we blackmailed you into it.” Evie answered, before taking a bite of the chicken pot pie in front of her. 

“We did?” Dora asked, in between bites of her own food.

She rolled her eyes, “Of course we did.”

“Do I get to know what with?” Dora asked.

“No.” Her two best friends replied together.

“You’re hiding something.” She accused, narrowing her eyes at the two of them.

“Now why would you say that?” Evie teased, feigning innocence as the other woman attempted to interrogate it out of them.

“Because you’re hiding something.” She repeated, her voice rising just an octave as she spoke.

“Maybe.” Charlie and Evie both answered with at the same time, shrugging in sync as they returned their focus to their meals.

“Well I only come for the entertainment.” Remus laughed, throwing an arm around Dora as she willed them to reveal the blackmail that she didn’t know about.

“I’m touched, Remus. I’m glad Evie and I are here to  _ spice up _ your otherwise boring existence.” Charlie teased, intentionally provoking Dora as he dodged the dinner roll she threw at his head, catching it and biting into it himself. The subtle show of his quidditch skills reminded her of the supposed game that coming weekend. 

“Remind me to choose you for my team this weekend.” Evie goaded the man, laughing at his look of offence at her words.

“I’m sorry, but if you’re just now deciding that you want me, I might just have to proposition Angelina for a spot on her team instead.” 

“Just trying to keep things fair.” She teased, “I was worried that with the three of us on one team we might simply be too good for the competition to even have a chance.” 

“They’ll probably get Potter  _ and  _ Malfoy!” He shot back, earning the curious looks of those around them, as mentioning the boy-who-lived’s name was prone to do, “How is it fair that they get _ two _ seekers as good as that?”

“Because they’re fucking.” Dora offered with a shrug.

“Goodness, Weasley, I didn’t realize how worked up about quidditch you could get.” Remus teased, though they all knew full well how passionate the man was about his favorite sport.

“Watch it, Lupin, or I’ll make you play too.” Charlie threatened, it was the same threat he’d been using for months now when the man refused to play with them.

“You  _ wish _ I would play.” Remus shot back with a grin that took the years off his face, “Then we’d be virtually undefeated. No, no… It’s really much better for everyone that I sit these little fun matches out. Wouldn’t want to make someone cry over a friendly game of quidditch.

“One of these days we’re going to call you on your bluff, Remus.” Evie warned him as Dora just laughed.

“Go ahead.” He challenged, pulling Teddy from his stroller into his lap, knowing that the cuteness factor would help his case, “I’m sure Teddy would love to see me whip his godparents in a game of quidditch, wouldn’t you love?”

And in a moment of either fate or perfect timing, Teddy clapped his hands together excitedly.

“You’re all being ridiculous.” Dora grumbled, rolling her eyes at their banter. 

“You’re just saying that because you have always have a guaranteed spot on Evie’s team and don’t have to worry about appealing to her better nature to get chosen.”

“This is appealing to my better nature?” Evie countered with a laugh.

“Of course it is!” Charlie practically shouted at her.

“Why would anyone ever give you anything then?” Remus teased, earning a snort of approval from both of the women.

“Becasue I’m hot as fuck.” The dragon tamer replied with a cocky smirk as the occupants of the booth burst with laughter.

“Well Mr. Weasley,” Came the humored voice of Minerva McGonagall as she approached their table with a smile, “I see your grasp on the English language has not improved in your time since leaving my classroom.”

“I assure you, Headmistress,” He replied, shooting the older woman a saucy wink, “If anything, my grasp on the subtleties of language has done nothing but improve.”

“Still with the theatrics, I see.” She quipped before greeting the rest of them.

“Only for you, Professor.” Charlie shot back with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

“And to think I was about to ask you to tea next week.” She shook her head in disappointment, but couldn’t conceal the delighted humor in her eyes.

“Finally taking me up on the date I asked for back in seventh year?” Charlie countered, as the three others looked on with delighted amusement, “Minerva, I’m shocked.”

“I refuse to dignify that question with a response.” She turned up her nose at the man, “If you’re interested in a meeting over tea between potential  _ colleagues _ , be at my office on Monday at four.”

He sobered slightly, and offered her a genuine smile, “I’ll be there, Professor. Thank you.”

“Good.” She replied simply, “Now I must be getting back to the school. Remus, I trust that I will see you for the staff meeting this afternoon?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Minerva.” He agreed and she bid her farewells.

They ended their meal soon after, as Remus had classes following lunch and Charlie had to be getting back to the Sanctuary. Dora and Evie took their time getting back to the house, stopping to admire the Christmas displays in the shop windows and popping into a couple to pick up a gift or two. They said their goodbyes shortly after they arrived back at the house, with Evie ducking in the floo to head to home and Dora settling Teddy down for his nap.

When she stepped out of the fireplace and into her flat, she was surprised to see her Uncle waiting for her in the wingback chair sitting next to her.

“I wasn’t expecting you, Uncle Al.” She told the man, unable to bury the hint of resentment she was feeling towards him at the moment.

“We need to talk, Evangeline.” He told her, leaning forward in the chair as she stared down at him, “I know you have questions.”

“You’re damn right, I do.” She agreed with a fury.

She’d only been turning the conversation between her and Dolohov over and over in her head since she left the prison.

“And you should.” He nodded, cracking one of his knuckles as he spoke, “I’ve kept this from you for far too long.”

Her interest piqued, “And what would that be?”    


He sighed, “Why don’t you sit down, lass?”

She claimed a spot on the sofa opposite of him, refusing to give him the upper hand in the conversation, “How did Dolohov know where I was hiding?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted, holding up a hand to keep her from interrupting, “There is a good bit about that night that I do not understand, but what I  _ do  _ know is that Dolohov was the one to alert me of your location and the trouble within your home.”

She couldn’t hide her shock, he and Bella had both asked after her that night, demanding to know of her location. Determined to wipe the Rosier family from existence. It didn’t make sense for him to alert the aurors. It didn’t make sense for him to try and protect her. He was a murderer on a mission. He had wanted to kill her, they both had.  _ Hadn’t they? _

“Why would he -”

Alastor interrupted her question with a defeated sigh, “I don’t know, lass. When I got there, he was long gone and all that remained of your parents were your father’s signet ring and a strand or two of your mother’s hair.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, both of their thoughts drifting back to that night. Of how he’d pulled her from the wall and gathered her into his arms, quieting her screams and sobs as she had stared at the spot her parents had been.

“He said something about a memory charm.” She told her uncle, “That it should have broken by now.”

He sighed once more, a dejected sound that ripped through her soul, “When I found you, you were hysterical, lass.You were so worked up that I used Legilimency on you to find out what happened.” He admitted to her shock, “I didn’t want to, but I could see no other option to figuring out what had happened to your parents.”

“What did you see?” She asked, her voice quiet and fearful of what he would tell her.

He hesitated, “I saw your memories of the event. I saw Dolohov and Bellatrix torturing your parents for hours as you were forced to watch from your spot in the wall.” His face was ashen at the thought of the memories before he shook himself and continued on, “But something about it didn’t sit right with me, it seemed to start much too early in the evening.” She scrunched her eyebrow in confusion but let him continue without interrupting, “You see, I had been there meeting with your father in relative secrecy that night, before everything went down. But according to your memories, they were being tortured long before that meeting happened.” She opened her mouth to ask why he’d never said anything to her about it but thought better of it, staying silent instead, “So I dug deeper into your mind, looking for the answers I was seeking, for some sort of key to what I was missing.” 

Her blood went cold in her veins, she knew where this was going, “Someone had messed with your mind, love” He said, his voice eerily calm as he told her the secret he’d been carrying for years, “They didn’t obliviate you, they simply locked up your true memories behind a vault that couldn’t be accessed by anyone.”

_ The memory charm hasn’t worn off yet.  _

The words rang through her mind with cruel repetition. And though her head was awhirl with questions beyond the death eater’s choice words, one stuck out above the rest, “Does that mean that Dolohov and Bellatrix didn’t murder my parents that night?”

“I do not know and it has haunted me all of your life.” He admitted, “All I knew at the time was that whoever had meddled with your memories went through a lot of trouble to do so. It didn’t make sense to me that Dolohov would lead me in your direction only for me to find out that he and Bellatrix had demanded to know of your location so that they could kill you themselves.”

No, it didn’t. It seemed like the more she knew, the less made sense. She felt as if she was standing at the precipice of some giant lie and with one wrong move her whole life would come crumbling down.

“Did you ever try to take down the locks on the memories?”

“Once.” He winced slightly, “Not long after that night. But I didn’t want to risk hurting you in the process.”

He seemed to know what she was about to ask if the pain in his eyes was anything to go by, “Will you try again now?”

“Evie…”

She cut him off, “No, I want to know what truly happened that night. I want to know if I’ve spent my life holding my son’s father accountable for murders he didn’t commit.”

“It will be painful.” He told her.

“I can take it.”

He hesitated, before steeling himself and diving straight into her mind without so much as a warning. It was a familiar feeling, as if someone had done this many times before, with him shuffling through her memories like a filing cabinet, reaching deeper and deeper into the caverns of her mind until he slammed up against a wall. A wall she’d never realized was there before, but a wall she now recognized for what it was.

She could suddenly feel the strain of the memories behind it, fighting to get out. Her mind reached for the thing it knew it was missing, prying at the edges of the vault as if it were trying to remove an extremely sticky sticker without nails to assist. She could feel the old auror working tirelessly with her to break through the walls.

Suddenly, she could sense the hollowness of her false memories of that night, as her uncle prodded at the locked vault in her mind, as if they’d spontaneously decided to crumble and detach themselves from her brain, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand as they worked to free the memories from the vault. She could feel herself fading with the energy it was taking to pry them loose. 

She could sense Alastor starting to pull from her mind, she could feel the anxiety he held over hurting her, “Don’t stop now.” She pleaded with him, not even seeing him as she spoke, her vision clouded with the pain of the both of them clawing for purchase at the vaulted memories, “We’re so close, I can almost see it.”

“Evie…” He warned her, sounding so far away as he spoke. 

“Please, please. You owe me this much.” She pleaded with the man, hardly even registering the tears pouring from her eyes and the groans of agony spilling from her lips as her mind rebelled against the intrusion, “Promise me you won’t stop until we know.”

He hesitated once more, “I promise.” she could hear the grimace in his voice, but the two of them pressed on. 

Finally she could feel them peeling away at the last layer, the feeling of foreign memories rushing out of their cage as Alastor ripped the rest of the cage away, plunging her straight into darkness as she fully lost her grip on reality.

Suddenly, she was four years old again and sitting in the drawing room her mother favoured. Her father had her on his knee, laughing loudly over something someone had said to her right. Her father smelled exactly as she remembered, of imported cigars and black coffee. He told the man something about a bit of magic he’d read about and she tried to make out the other man’s face. It was if he was clouded further from her memory, She couldn’t see his face but she could have sworn she recognized his voice. 

The two men continued conversing over subjects she did not understand as her mother entered the room pulling Evie up into her arms, “It is long past your bedtime, little love.” She told her daughter, snuggling her close. “Time to say goodnight.”

“Goodnight Papa.” She told her father, before turning to the clouded man, “Goodnight ‘Tonin.”

The fog dispersed at his name, revealing the younger face of the man she would have recognized anywhere.  _ Antonin Dolohov.  _ He couldn’t have been more than twenty, sitting there in the leather armchair with a glass of liquor in his hand. He smiled easily at the little girl, with a great sense of familiarity that shook her to her very core.

“Goodnight,  _ Kukolka _ .” He chuckled, looking perfectly at ease in her parents’ home, as if he spent many a night drinking with her father.

“Goodnight, my sweet.” Her father told her, standing up to gather her back into his arms and cuddle her close, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Will you play tea party with me again tomorrow?” She asked her father, looking up into his soft green eyes, the eyes she saw every time she looked into a mirror, recognizing the tiredness in them as he held her close. 

“I might be able to be persuaded.” He offered her with a teasing smile.

“Please Papa?” She had asked, the small voice she possessed sounding foreign to her ears.

“Oh alright.” He agreed, giving her another kiss to the cheek, “Now go on with your mother, it’s long past -”

He froze mid-sentence, as if his attention was suddenly pulled elsewhere, “He’s here.” He breathed, horror filling his eyes as he turned to face her mother, “Calli you must take her and hide, he’s bringing down the wards.”

The urgency in his voice had confused her as a child, but now she could see the fear behind it. But beyond the fear she recognized how quickly he resigned himself to his fate, he was ready to  _ die _ to protect his wife and child. 

“I’m not leaving you, Evan.” Her mother insisted, “I refuse to let you fight this battle alone.”

“Calli -”

“Antonin.” Her mother called out to the man in anxious but even tones, the man who was casting heavy wards around the room in a frenzy, “Drop the wards, he cannot ever know you’ve been here. Hide her, Antonin. Hide my daughter. She cannot leave without triggering the wards to her location.”

Evie struggled to register what her mother was saying as the argument broke out between them ending quickly when Antonin nodded and moved to the space behind the piano, using his skills to create a hidden room behind the wall, warding it heavily in protective enchantments while her parents pulled her close. 

“Everything’s going to be okay, my sweet.” Her mother assured her, hugging her tightly as tears stained her cheeks, “Everything’s going to be just fine, I promise.” 

Her father was crying as well, wrapping his arms around the both of them as tightly as he could before he released them, handing her over to Antonin who covered her in more enchantments and slid her into the cubby in the wall closing it behind her and leaving her invisible and frozen in terror, watching the scene in the drawing room as if through a sheer curtain.

“Antonin, you need to leave.” Her father begged the man, “You need to get out before he breaks them.”

“I’m not leaving you, Evan.” The man snarled, facing off with her father. “We’ll fight him together.”

“There’s no fighting him, Antonin.” Evan told him with astounding clarity, “Promise me, promise me you’ll protect her.”

“Evan-”

“No, Antonin. You’re leaving and you’re going to send Alastor to get her after.” Her father cut off the younger man, the man who seemed to be her friend, “He cannot know of your involvement, it would be too dangerous.”

“Evan you will both  _ die  _ at his hand.” Antonin pleaded with her father, his own voice low and deadly as he turned to face her mother, “Tell him Calli, tell him to fight!”

Her mother shook her head, “Promise me you’ll look out for her, Antonin.”

He grimaced, “You know that I will.” 

Her mother wasn’t satisfied, “ _Promise_ me, Antonin.”

“I swear it on my mother’s grave, Calli.” He growled at her.

“Now leave.” She insisted, shoving at the man who was ready to die for them.   


Antonin stood his ground for a couple more moments before reaching for the silver chain around his neck pulling out a small round pendant, He shared a look with both of of her parents, as if he knew he was never going to see them again, “ _ Portus _ .” he spat, and was instantly transported out of the house.

Her mother broke into sobs, clutching at her father as the doors to the room crashed open in an explosion of wood and fire and smoke, “You have it.” Came the demanding voice of the one man she’d never fully trusted. The man who’d been admired by many. The man who was deemed the greatest light wizard the world had ever seen.

She’d been expecting Tom Riddle, but they had obviously not. Her parents were not at all surprised by his appearance as they stood their ground in the center of the room. It was as if they’d long since known he would be coming for them and knew their time on earth was coming to an end.

Albus Dumbledore stepped forcefully into the room, power radiating from his person almost as if he was glowing with magic. He glowered at her parents, raising his wand against them as he struck them with a series of curses she didn’t know. Her mother writhed in pain mere meters from her hiding spot as he curled his wand in attack at the woman who’d raised her. 

“You stole it.” He raged, using his free hand to attack her father with the same spell, “Crucio.” He snarled, shock registering in Evie as she watched the man with the ever-twinkling eyes drop the facade and cursed her parents into oblivion.

“Where is it?” He demanded of them, stopping his assault on her mother while her father continued to scream in agony.

“We’ll never tell.” She spat at him, earning more of his ire as he shot a stronger crucio at her father, “You do not deserve the sort of power it will bring. Killing us will do you no good.”

“Crucio.” He snarled once more at her, leaving her gasping and writing in pain next to her husband as the headmaster continued to torture the two of them, “You will tell me where the stone is or you will die trying to protect it in vain.

Understanding settled deep into her gut as she watched him torture them over and over, bringing them out just to question them further, standing over them as his own version of the Dark Lord torturing the people who dared to defy him. Who dared to keep him from power. The people who gave their lives in an attempt to keep him from the one thing that would make him unbeatable.

_ Her parents’ possessed one of the Deathly Hallows. _

She couldn’t move as she watched him torture them further, as they refused to give up it’s location. Suddenly something changed, as he released them from the curse and bound them together in a flurry of wand movement, before moving towards her own hiding spot. 

“Maybe you just require more of an incentive.” The powerful wizard spoke down to them, slashing at the wards surrounding the alcove she was hidden in, “Tell me where it is, or I will kill you daughter.”

Her mother screamed at him then, a bloodcurdling sound of agony that shook the windows and shattered the glasses of whiskey still sitting on the table. 

“Swear upon your magic, upon your  _ blood _ , that you will not hurt my daughter.” Evan snarled at him, fighting against the bonds that held him. 

Dumbledore stopped tearing down Antonin’s wards and gave him a cruel smile and followed through with the blood oath, “Now tell me.”

Fire burned in Evan Rosier’s eyes as he faced the wizard who she now knew would be the one to kill him, “It is buried beneath my father.”

“Now see?” He smiled a smile that turned Evie’s stomach, “That wasn’t so hard.” He turned back to the wall and continued slashing at the wards in a renewed effort to reach her. 

“You said you weren’t going to hurt her!” Evan roared, fighting desperately at his bonds as Calliope wailed and begged for the man to stop.

“Please, Albus, please don’t hurt my baby!” Calliope pleaded with the wizard as tears streamed down her face.

“Oh, I won’t hurt her.” Albus crooned as he tore through the last of the wards and came face to face with Evangeline, crouching down to her level, eyes twinkling with manic resolve, “But it wouldn’t be very smart of me to just leave her remembering everything that’s just happened here.” 

She watched as he pointed his wand at her skull and murmured a spell she didn’t recognize. She couldn’t do anything but sit there and wait for him to act, still frozen and silenced by the man who’d tried desperately to save her life. She could feel the memories of the night being locked behind the fortress he had erected in her mind, she could see the new memories he planted in her brain as he stared at her with cold calculation and stood from his spot, the spell still active as he rebuilt the wards around her and moved back towards her parents.

She watched as he tore the family ring from her father’s hand and threw it on the floor before pulling her mother closer by her hair and whisking them away into oblivion in a deafening snap of magic. Then everything was silent, even her sobs didn’t make a sound. 

Shrouded in magic and darkness, she had never felt so utterly alone. 

Somewhere someone was calling her name. A faint growl of desperation lighting the voice as it grew louder and louder until it was seemingly right next to her. 

She gasped awake, sitting straight up off the floor and nearly colliding with Alastor as he leaned over her trying to bring her round. A sob ripped from her throat at the look of his worry and the memory of that night, “Dumbledore.” She cried, trying to convey everything she’d seen to the man who’d protected her against every threat he could imagine, who’d fought the forces of darkness at the side of the man who killed her parents. 

“Dumbledore?” Moody breathed, staggering backwards as if he’d been punched in the gut. 

“Albus killed my parents.” She cried, jumping to her feet and swaying heavily as she headed back for the floo, “I need to go.”

“Evangeline, you can’t just run off to -”

“I’m not a child!” She shouted at the man, stumbling to the flames and reaching for the box of powder, “I need answers!”

“You need _ rest _ .” He insisted, but she refused to heed to his request instead throwing the powder into the flames.

“I’ll rest when I’m dead.” She stepped into the flames and called out, “Azkaban!”

She was torn away from her living room and spit out in the empty darkness of the traveling room. The lights were out as she made her way through the door, save for a single lamp lighting the desk of a greying older woman at the guard’s station. She moved past her with ease nodding in a quick hello and hurrying down the hall to the stairs without hindrance. She cast a tempus charm and recoiled at the lateness of the hour as she took the steps two by two and raced through a corridor of sleeping inmates. She paid their grumbles no mind as she all but flew across level after level of cells, finally reaching the top and rushing through the heavy doors and down the freezing hall to Dolohov’s cell.

He was asleep in his bed under the blanket she’d brought him as she opened the gate with a loud creak. He shot up at the sound of it, brandishing a knife from under his pillow that she knew he shouldn’t have, but paid it no mind.

He stilled when he saw her, lowering the knife as he stood to greet her, “What in the name of Merlin are you doing here,  _ Kukolka _ ?”

“It wasn’t you.” She told him, unable to stop the tears from falling as she watched his shoulders drop slightly in defeat.

“No.” He agreed, his voice gravelly as she moved further into the cell, closer to him.

“You tried to save them.” She stated, almost begging him to contradict her as he stayed glued to his spot on the floor, “You tried to save  _ me _ .”

“I failed them.” He told her, “I should have done more, I should have stayed to fight, I should have taken you and ran -”

She rushed him then, enveloping the Death Eater in her embrace as he stood shocked, unable to move as she buried her head into his broad chest and began sobbing in earnest. Hesitantly, his arms came up to wrap around her, as if he was slowly remembering the feeling of another person’s touch. 

He held her tightly, allowing her emotion to run its course as he simply breathed against her hair, not speaking as she broke down in his arms, “You didn’t fail them.” She choked out, her voice muffled by his chest as his arms tightened further around her. 

Neither of them spoke after that as he held her close, her anguish taking over as her world broke in two. Everything she knew, everything she thought she believed in, was suddenly being brought into question. 

_ She’d fought at the side of the man who’d killed her parents. _

Her knees buckled under the weight of emotion and he caught her easily, pulling her up to his shoulder and wrapping her legs around his waist in a way eerily reminiscent to the way she carried Henry most days. He moved his large hand slowly in circles up and down her back as the other arm supported her weight, walking her back and forth across the length of the cell as she sobbed into his neck. 

“It’s alright now,  _ Dorogoy _ .” He told her as her tears began to subside, “It’s all going to be okay.”

He grabbed the blanket off the bed and draped it over her shoulders, blocking out the wind and the rain that tore through his cell as he lowered the both of them onto the edge of the bed. She dropped her head against his shoulder as she continued to cry, listening as he muttered a string of words in Russian as he continued to comfort her.

“You let me  _ hate _ you, Antonin.” She whispered against his neck, shivering at the sudden warmth of the blanket around them.

“It was the only way to protect you.” He told her, his own voice heavy with emotion as he held her close. She tried not to think about how many years it had to have been since he’d held anyone like this, since he’d let anyone get this close, “And after his spell…”

“I’m so sorry, Antonin.” She apologized, moving to look up into his dark eyes, lit only by the whisper of moonlight peeking in through the slats. 

“Whether or not I killed Evan and Calliope, the responsibility of their deaths still rests on me.”

“No it doesn’t.” She insisted, “You did what they asked you to. Nothing you could have done would have stopped his rampage. I know that, I saw that. You shouldn’t be in here.” 

“I have killed and hurt many more after them, Evangeline.” He argued with her, “I do not deserve your compassion or the forgiveness of those I  _ have _ hurt.”

“You need forgiveness? I’ll give you that.” She told the man still holding her in his arms, “You are  _ forgiven _ , Antonin.”

He sighed, “The forgiveness of one does not make up for the murder of many.”

“I don’t care.” She told him, the fury lighting in her veins as she stared at him, “I’m getting you out of here.”

“No,  _ Dorogoy _ .” He insisted, his voice a low rumble of pain as he reached to wrap the blanket tighter around her quaking form, “I have accepted my fate, this is where I will remain until my final breath.”

“Antonin…” 

“You cannot save me, Evangeline.” He shook his head in defeat, “Do not waste your life in an attempt to do so. I have made my choices and now I must live with them.”

“But -”

“You need to go, if you stay here much longer you will freeze to death.”

“I’m not going  _ anywhere _ .” She spat, climbing out of his lap as her anger rose further, “If you think I’m going to just leave you in here after discovering how much you’ve done for my family, you’ve got another thing coming. One way or another, I’m getting you out. Even if I have to break you out myself.”

“I gave your parents’ my word that I would protect you, I cannot do that if you are locked in here with me.” He stood to face her, “Go home, Evangeline. My son needs you alive.”

She hesitated, but stepped away from him, “I will be back, Antonin.”

“There are still those out there who would protect the legacy of Albus Dumbledore above all else,  _ Dorogoy _ .” Antonin reminded her, his voice deadly as he spoke,“Do not come back until Monday and we will not speak of this again.”

“You cannot continue to take the blame for a murder you did not commit!”

“I have done so for twenty years,” He argued, refusing to agree with her, “It has been my cross to bear and I am not free to set it aside now.”

“My father wouldn't want you to do this.” She stated, realizing how much the words would hurt him and trying to use it to her advantage.

“Your father would want me to protect you against all else, that is what I have done and what I will continue to do until the day I die.” He growled, stepping fully into her bubble as he attempted to intimidate her into dropping it.

“But who is protecting  _ you _ , Antonin?” She shouted at him, tears leaking from her eyes once more, “Who can you count on to have your back?”

“I have never trusted anyone to have my back and I know I never will.” He spat, “I am on my own.”

“Let me return the favor, let me  _ fight _ for you.” She pleaded with him, wrapping her hand around his forearm as she begged.

“There is no life left for me to fight for.” He yelled at her, the coils of muscles in his arm tensing beneath her grip, “The quicker you come to accept that, the easier things will be.”

“I don’t want easy, I want  _ justice _ .” She yelled back at him, “You deserve justice, Antonin. Henry deserves to  _ know _ his father. To know what you did to protect my family, what you sacrificed to keep me safe. You deserve a life with your son!”

“He deserves a life lived outside of the shadow my presence would cast.” He spat, shoving the words she’d spoken on her first visit to the prison back at her. 

“I was wrong.” She all but screamed at him, “He needs his _father_.”

“He has a _mother_ , that is enough for now.” 

The words hit her like a freight train, sending her reeling at the implication.

“Antonin…” She whispered, the pain in her voice surprising them both.

“I will not fight with you over this anymore, Evangeline.” He sighed, “Go home.” 

She recognized a losing battle when she saw one and turned to exit the cage, “I’m never going to give up on you, Antonin. I swear on my blood.”

“Do not make such oaths,  _ Solnyshka _ .” 

“You are not the boss of me, Antonin.” She reminded him.

“ _ Ty stanesh' moyey smert'yu, ved'ma. _ ” He grumbled, moving further away from her, “Go home now. Please.”

“I will be back.”

“Monday.”

“Monday.” She agreed before making her way back out of the cell and down the many flights of stairs.

Moody was waiting for her in the traveling room, standing guard by the door when she answered, his mouth a thin line as he watched her cross back to the fireplace. Neither of them spoke as he watched her leave. And when he didn’t follow her through she stumbled to her bedroom and crashed into her bed. Even with the emotional revelations of the day, she slept better than she had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solnyshka - Small Sun, Sunshine
> 
> Dorogoy - Darling
> 
> Kukolka - Little Doll
> 
> Ty stanesh' moyey smert'yu, ved'ma. - You’re going to be the death of me, witch.
> 
> ***
> 
> Anyone catch that 100 reference in there? My Bellarke shipping heart just couldn't resist. 
> 
> Okay, I know that Dumbledore might have been a bit of a shock and OOC. To be completely honest, as a kid I loved his character, but as I've gotten older I've realized what an awful person he is. He uses people as pawns and is extremely prejudiced, power hungry, and manipulative. He speaks in half truths and strives to be the wizard behind the curtain, whether he acknowledges it or not. Most of that I can get past, but what I can never forgive is him leaving Harry in an abusive home for so long. I understand that he had his reasons and the whole familial protection thing, but there is never - NEVER - a reason to leave a child in an abusive situation. EVER. There is no justification for it, it is wrong and harmful and the worst possible thing he could have done. There is no excuse and I will never forgive him for it. So this has sort have become my chance to hold him responsible for that massive fuck-up.
> 
> Also, I know it seems like a bit of a 180, running straight to Dolohov after finding out but I've seen first hand the bonkers decisions people make in times of high stress and in light of life altering revelations. 
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think in the comments below. Your love is my bread and butter, seriously.


	7. The Sweetest Darkness In Your Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles with chaotic laughter as I toss this chapter in your general direction and disappear with the loud snap of my fingers*
> 
> Welp, here we are. Officially halfway through what I've written so far and nowhere close to the end. I've been so busy and my life has been so chaotic for the past couple weeks that I've decided to set specific days of the week for when I'll update certain fics. I'm going to try to keep up with that schedule and continue to post weekly no matter the amount of views this story gets. For those of y'all that are here and reading this, I greatly appreciate it.
> 
> Side note, I've decided to really lean in to the relation Evie has to the Black's in this story and I will be going back to firm that up a bit more, but for the sake of you not having to go back to read over those changes, from this point forward, Evie's mother Calliope is the fourth black sister. The second youngest, in-between Andromeda and Narcissa. I know it's not a super big deal, but I wanted to offer a bit more of an explanation for the subsequent relationships as I'm sure there were quite a few questions as to where she exactly fit in with the Black family.
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did, I would be living somewhere in the south of France in an old chateau with the likes of Henry Cavill or Tom Hiddleston or Chris Evans. Or maybe all three. This quarantine is definitely getting to me. 
> 
> Per usual, this is semi-edited and not betaed. Judge me how you wish.

Monday morning couldn’t come soon enough. Evie spent the majority of the weekend in a daze, to the point where it almost cost them the weekly quidditch game on Saturday. It was only after a bulger to the head, courtesy of George Weasley, that she managed to wipe the thoughts from her mind and focus on the game at hand. She didn’t speak of her late night visit to Azkaban with anyone, not even Alastor when he showed up to Sunday dinner at the Burrow for the first time in months. She didn’t miss the looks he was sending her, or how he watched her closely during the game, as if half expecting her to fall off her broom with lingering exhaustion from his intrusion into her mind. Andromeda and Dora soon joined him in sending her worried looks over the long dinner table, each of them cornering her at multiple points in the evening to ask if she was okay. 

She didn’t know how they had sensed her distress, but knew better than to outright lie to them. She simply told them it was a conversation for another time and promised answers soon. If she was being honest with herself, there was one line of the whole interaction with the incarcerated Death Eater that kept running through her mind. It was the very reason she refused to speak of any of it, to  _ anyone _ . 

_ There are still those out there who would protect the legacy of Albus Dumbledore above all else. _

There she was, surrounded by members of the Order and breaking bread with the very people that had idolized the man who’d killed her parents, and she wondered what they would do if she suddenly spoke of his actions behind the veil of goodness and light. How would they react to hearing a story that was such an opposite to everything he’d claimed to stand for? To everything they’d ever fought for? How far would some of them go to silence her in their mission to protect the man none of them had ever really known?

At her core she knew there were plenty of people she could trust to have her back, her family, for starters, but how could she be sure that she wasn’t putting them at risk as well in her pursuit for justice? It was an exhausting train of thought that left her with more questions than she had answers to. 

By the time she finally returned home to her flat later that night, she didn’t hesitate to slip into her pajamas, throw a change of clothes into a bag and head back to the manor. For the past few nights she’d gone to the manor before Henry’s bedtime and had been the one to tuck him in and send him off to sleep, and she’d been surprised by his lack of nightmares over the past few days. It was like he was finally healing ever so slightly from his time spent as the Dark Lord’s captive. 

As she stepped out of the floo and into the living room of her parents’ home, her eyes slid to the wall behind the piano… the wall Antonin Dolohov had shoved her into. Before she made her way upstairs to the playroom she knew the kids were currently in, she walked hesitantly over to that spot. Running her fingers over the smooth expanse of the wall in which he had hidden her, she had to wonder why her parents had asked him to hide her instead of taking her and fleeing. 

“Oh hello Evangeline.” One of her favorite volunteers, Narcissa Malfoy greeted her as she made her way down the grand staircase with Beau tucked into her arms, no doubt on the way to the kitchen for a bottle before he’s put to bed, “Are you here to put little Henry down?”

Evangeline smiled at her Aunt, recalling how surprised she’d been when she’d first learned that the woman had wanted to get involved with the children’s home. Even though she was her mother’s sister, Evie had never spent much time with her aunt, with the war and her adoption by Andromeda, neither of them had ever had much of a cause to meet. Narcissa had been the one to change that, shortly following the end of the war she approached her and had invited her to tea. Evangeline had accepted, albeit reluctantly, and had suffered through the first couple meetings with all of the grace she could muster. In some ways she couldn’t help but hold Narcissa semi-responsible for her parents deaths as well. It wasn’t until she’d brought up the idea for the children’s home that their relationship had begun to shift. Narcissa had supported the cause wholeheartedly and poured all of her time and effort into helping her niece make it a reality. She began taking tea with Andromeda and building up a relationship with Dora as well in the months that followed. Now the woman spent a good chunk of her time with the children at the home, doting on them and spoiling them with all kinds of treats and treasures as they waited for adoption. It warmed Evangeline’s heart to see her pouring her heart into the project alongside the rest of them.

“Hey Aunt Cissa.” She greeted the blonde woman, the woman who looked so much like her own mother, and moved out from behind the piano, “I figured I might as well, his nightmares have been getting so much better the past few nights I’ve been here.”

“I’d say that I’m inclined to agree.” Narcissa offered her a smile, her eyes soft as she crossed the room and welcomed her niece with a chaste kiss to the cheek, “They’re just getting ready to go down, so you might want to hurry.”

“Thanks Auntie,” Evangeline replied, “I’m sure we’ll have time to speak in the morning.” 

She nodded and made her way back towards the kitchen, looking perfectly at home among the mess of toys and artwork before she turned to face Evie once more, “If he goes down easy, maybe you’ll consider joining me for a spot of tea in the sunroom?”

“Merlin willing.” Evie agreed, before making her own way up the stairs and down the hall to the playroom where the sound of Luna’s melodic storytelling and children's laughter poured out from behind the double doors. She cast a tempus before entering the room, recognizing that it was nearly time for the kids to be climbing into their respective beds. 

She couldn’t help but smile as she stepped into the room and caught sight of Henry sitting in between Felicity and Tommy listening with rapt attention as Luna used her wand to cast images of stories of adventure and lulled the children into a sleepy state of being with her hypnotic voice. She leaned against the doorframe as she watched the rest of the story, chuckling as she recognized the muggle story of Cinderella playing out in the wisps of magic in front of them and nodding in greeting to one of the other mom’s who’d gotten involved shortly after the war. With two nearly grown children, Ellen had jumped at the chance to spend her days with the young children who weren’t prone to sneaking off to concerts in the middle of the night like her own. She sat in the rocker behind the other children, rocking Haven to sleep as Luna’s voice captured the attention of the rest of them.

When the story finished, Luna gathered the children to their feet and assisted in leading them to their respective rooms and beds, carrying a half-asleep Felicity down the hall as Henry reached for Evie as he had the past few nights and snuggled into her chest.

“Sleepy, Mummy.” He whispered, closing his eyes as she cuddled him close and carried him down the hall to his little room. 

“I know, baby.” She replied, nuzzling his curls as she pushed open the door and laid him carefully into the bed, reaching for the faded yellow teddy bear he loved and handing it to him as his eyelids struggled to stay open, “Get some sleep, Henry.”

“Stay?” He asked, forcing his eyes open to focus on her.

“Of course,” She whispered, already knowing that she wouldn’t be meeting Narcissa in the sunroom for a cuppa as she snuggled in close to him, allowing the little boy to seek comfort in her embrace, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He seemed content with her answer as he dozed off, his breathing evening out as his grip loosened on the bear. She didn’t move for a while, content to just snuggle with the child, before summoning her latest article from her bag and beginning to edit it under the soft glow of the lamp next to her. 

She blocked out all thoughts of her meeting in the morning and poured herself completely into her work, slaving over the long article of the reparations of the school and just how much work still had to be done. It was a cause she was passionate about so it wasn’t hard to lose herself in it as the little boy slept on next to her. But even as her own eyelids fluttered closed with exhaustion sometime after midnight, her mind would not rest with thoughts of her impending conversation with the man she’d held responsible for her parents’ deaths for so long. 

_ How was she supposed to go on from here?  _

Even when she set aside the work and curled back around Henry, her troubled thoughts would not leave her. For once, she was the one plagued with nightmares though the night as her mind came up with all sorts of heartbreaking scenarios she could be faced with in the coming days and weeks.

When the alarm clock next to her began going off sometime after eight, she refused to climb out of bed just yet. After slamming the snooze button as many times as she could, Evangeline finally climbed out of bed sometime after nine and pressed a gentle kiss to Henry’s forehead before making her way to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. 

“Mumma?” Henry asked for her sleepily as she sat on the edge of the bed and laced up her sneakers, no doubt seeking out her presence among the blankets and stuffed animals he’d begun accumulating in the small bed.

“Morning, buddy.” She greeted the little boy, accepting the tired cuddle he offered as he climbed into her arms and buried his head against her neck, “I’ve got to go soon.”

“Where are you going?” he asked, not bothering to lift his head as he snuggled and she stood from her spot on the bed.

“I’m going to see your dad.” She told him honestly, wincing internally as she realized what a mistake she might’ve just made. 

He perked up and faced her, “My daddy?” Henry asked.

She nodded, “I’ve got to talk with him about adopting you.” 

“Can I come?” He asked, hope shining in his eyes.

“Not today, baby.” She whispered, holding him close as she made her way out of the room. 

“Why not?” 

“Because Azkaban isn’t a place for children.” “Last time I saw him he told me to tell you something, would you like to know what it is?” He nodded and she repeated the phrase in Russian, “ _ A lyublyu tebya, syn moy. _ ”

He smiled widely at the no doubt familiar words, reinforcing her desire to learn the language as he bounced excitedly in her arms. “Tell Daddy that I love him too?”

“Of course, my love.” She assured him as they made their way down the stairs and into the main living room.

“Can you give him my art?” He asked, wiggling to be set down and running for the arts & crafts wall as soon as he was on solid ground. He pointed to the picture on the wall, a crayon drawing of three stick figures and what looked like a broom.

“Absolutely.” She agreed, unclipping the picture off the wall and lowering it down to him, “Is there anything you want me to tell him about it?”

He shook his head and held it back up to her, “Daddy always knows my pictures.” He told her with pride, before wrapping himself around her legs in goodbye.

She set the picture to the side and gathered the little boy back into her arms, “I love you, kiddo.” She told him, snuggling him close and planting kisses into his hair, “More than all the stars in the sky and all the fish in the sea.”

He smiled at her, “I love you too, Mummy.”

She held him for several moments more before sending him off to the kitchen to where the rest of the household was waiting and climbing back into the fireplace to head for the prison.

“Welcome back, Miss Rosier.” The guard who’d greeted her last Monday welcomed her from behind the desk.

“Hello again.” She replied, giving him a small smile as she passed by the desk, grateful that Alastor had still allowed her to return without him.

As she made her way through the levels of cells, she ignored the catcalls and silenced the extreme with a flick of her wand. When she reached the level that contained Thorfinn and the others she steeled herself before entering the long hallway. The majority of the Death Eaters said nothing as she walked past, save for the crazed mumbling of Rodolphus Lestrange who’d lost his mind years ago. She wasn’t going to stop at Thorfinn’s cell, at least that was her plan until she’d already made her way to the halfway point between his cell and the far door. She paused in her steps and turned back towards his cell, earning his look of surprise when she planted herself in front of his cell. 

He stared at her, waiting for her to speak first, “I forgive you, you know. You’ve done terrible things and you deserve to be held accountable for them but I still forgive you for it. What I can’t forgive is your betrayal of Charlie.” 

He nodded, tears in his eyes as her words washed over him, “Maybe one day it will all make sense.”

“This will  _ never  _ make sense, Thor.” She spat at him, “Nothing could possibly make this situation better. You fucked up. You fucked us all up. This whole fucking thing is your fault.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He shot back at her, his voice rising in desperation as they squared off on opposite sides of the bars, “I  _ hate  _ myself for what I did to you guys.”

“As you should!” She shouted at him, angry tears spilling over, “Charlie is a mess right now. I told him what you said, against my better judgement, I did. You should have seen him, Thor. You should have seen just how much it broke him to hear your words. He doesn’t deserve to still be suffering under the weight of your affections, Thor. He deserves a life that’s not plagued with worry over a fucking  _ Death Eater _ .”

The fury burned in his eyes as she finished berating him, “Yet you’re still here visiting the one man whose crimes against you are worse than my own.” He spat back at her, “What would your parents think of that if they saw you visiting the very  _ Death Eater _ who took them from you?”

She reached through the bars to grab him by his collar and yanked him against the metal to face her, earning his grunt of protest and the attention of the people in the cells surrounding them, “Do not speak of things you don’t understand, you fucking bastard.”

“I know better than most, sis.” He growled at her, “You need to stay away from that monster.”

“You’re not in any place to tell me what to do,  _ brother _ .” She silenced him with the term of endearment, though the rage still burned in his blue eyes, “You lost every bit of my respect the day you ran off to join the Dark Lord. We might as well call you a  _ monster _ too.”

“Go run off to see the  _ monster _ you’re here for then.” He spat, ripping from her grasp and going back to ignoring her presence.

She huffed and turned to walk down the hall, “Nothing will ever fix this, Thor.” She whispered before she fled to the stairwell, the silence following her through the doors as she collapsed on the steps and wept once more. It seemed like seeing him here would never get any easier.

She gathered herself together before she could wallow much more in her heartbreak, climbing the stairs with purpose once more as she made her way to the icy wasteland the aurors had the nerve to call a cellblock. She shivered despite the warming charm on her coat as she made her way down the long hall towards Dolohov’s cell. 

“You’re early.” Came the man’s greeting when she stopped outside his cell. He looked like he had been half-drowned in a fight with the kraken. Water dripped from his hair and beard, looking half frozen as the wind whipped through his cell and tugged at the thin rags known as clothes. 

“I don’t recall us setting a specific time.” She told him, opening the door and stepping inside.

“You need to be careful,  _ Kukolka _ .” He chastised her, “No one needs to think that you’re eager to be visiting me.”

“They can suck it.” She replied, earning his low chuckle as he followed her to the table, “Why do you still call me little doll?”

He shrugged, “Habit.”

“Twenty years is a long time to hold onto a habit you rarely get a chance to use.”

“I used to be hopeful that it might jarr a memory or two.”

She snorted, “In between killing curses?”

He leveled her with a glare, “You know I never favored Unforgivables.”

“No, you prefered to use the curses of your own creation. Curses that no one knew the counters too.”

He continued holding her gaze, unfazed by her barbed words, “You’re fiery this morning.”

She ducked her head, “I ran into an old friend on the way up.”

He sighed in what was, no doubt, annoyance, “What’d the little viking do now?”

It was her turn to snort, “I don’t think anyone would choose to call him little.”

“Out of everyone, I think I'm the only one that could get away with it.” He shot back, leaning back in his chair in nonchalance, “You’re avoiding my question.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and leveled him with a cold stare, “Because it’s none of your business.”

“You’re raising my son, that makes it my business.” He growled, surprising Evangeline with the protectiveness that shone through.

She shrugged in response, playing it off, “He crossed a line, that’s all.”

“Want me to call a hit on him?” He was deadly serious. 

“No.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Do you have a decision for me or not?”

He chuckled, the malice disappearing from his gaze,“Cutting right to the chase then?”

“Yes.”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

She groaned aloud,“Antonin.”

He leaned across the little table, invading her space as well as her senses with his sudden closeness, “Indulge me,  _ Dorogoy _ .”

Images of her  _ indulging _ him flashed through her mind, setting her cheeks aflame as she fought to rein in the heat building in her belly. She was powerless against it, the growing attraction she had for the man. The spicy smell of him permeated her senses as neither of them moved, and she couldn’t help but wonder how someone so deadly could smell so damn delicious. His stormy gaze remained locked in her own as the thought of him sinking his teeth into her lower lip flashed across her mind as the heat of wanting settled more heavily below her navel. The slow smirk that pulled at the corners of his mouth was the only thing that dragged her out of her dirty thoughts back to the present.

_ Fuck.  _

“I’m not your darling.” She spat at him finally, ignoring the knowing look in his eyes.

He chuckled, still not moving from his spot mere centimeters from her mouth, “Are you mad at me, Evangeline?”

“I’m pissed to hell at you.”

He pushed back finally, smiling in apparent victory as he leaned once more against the back of the hard chair, “Then you’ve finally come to your senses.”

She could feel her temper flaring further as the urge to jump his bones disipated slightly, “No, I’m pissed that you’re content to rot in this fucking prison without the barest human rights or even basic protection from the elements when your son is out there begging for you to come home.” She shouted at him, “You’re such a fucking idiot all I want to do is shake some fucking sense into you.”

He shot her a warning look, his voice low and deadly as he spoke, “Careful,  _ Dorogoy _ .”

“Oh fuck off, Antonin.” She replied with a roll of her eyes as she waved him off, “You don’t scare me.”

“You should be scared. Just because I didn't kill your parents doesn’t mean I'm innocent, Evangeline.” He warned her with a menacing glare, standing slowly to lord himself over her from across the table, dragging himself up to his full height as she watched, “Don’t you dare forget that.”

She stood to face him, well aware of how easily he could just kill her and still a good bit shorter than him, but refusing to acknowledge the difference as she held her own against him, “You. Don’t. Scare. Me.” She insisted, enunciating each word pointedly as she challenged him with a glare of her own.

He cornered her so quickly against the stone wall of the cage she barely had time to blink, her heart thudding wildly in her chest as he pressed her further into the wall, the cold seeping from the stones and through her jacket. 

“How about now?” He growled, towering over her as he tried to intimidate her even more. She had to admit it was quite frightening, being cornered like that, but something else teased at her gut as he held her there. A feeling she wouldn’t  _ dare _ to put a name to as an involuntary shiver rocked through her body..

She swallowed heavily, trying not to let her discomfort show, before tilting her head up to face him, holding his narrowed gaze as she challenged him, “No.” She told him, watching as his eyes grew stormier and his breathing grew deeper. She knew she was pushing him and she knew she should stop but something deep within her refused to back down. 

The violent storm in his eyes held her captive as they stared each other down, each of them refusing to tear themselves away as he caged her against the wall. Despite the intimidation, she could feel his fingers slip to grasp the collar of her jacket, running the material under his fingers as he held her there. A lock of his dark hair fell in his eyes with his movement, giving him an even more roguish look as he held her there. She was ashamed of how her body reacted to his close presence, how her stomach twisted in cruel attraction and his eyes dropped briefly to her lips. Before snapping back up to her own with a flash of guilt shining in their depths.

“I’m getting you out of here, Antonin.” She whispered to the man.

“ _ Ty stanesh' moyey smert'yu, ved'ma. _ ” He groaned and pushed away from her, quickly adding distance between them, “Don’t make promises you know you can’t keep.”

“I plan on keeping it.” 

“You’re here for my son.” He reminded her, as her eyes followed him across the expanse of the small cell, watching as he put as much distance as he could between them, “Not for me.”

“Why can’t it be for both?” Her voice was barely a whisper as she risked a glance up at his face, recognizing the usual hardness in his gaze.

“Because it can’t.” He told her with a certain sense of finality.

“Antonin I -”

He cut her off, “I’ve made my decision, would you like to know it or not?”

She sighed, “Of course I would.”

“You can adopt Henry.” His voice was void of any emotion, his face an impenetrable mask as he agreed to the one thing that must be killing him, “Bring the papers next week.”

Before she could even fully comprehend his words, she rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his solid waist in a show of gratitude as the tears poured from her eyes in relief, “Antonin, thank you.”

He instantly sunk into her embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around her and holding her like she was his last lifeline as she cried, “You take care of my son, Evangeline.” 

She nodded against his chest, tears soaking through his prison clothes, “I swear that I will.”

“You need to leave now,  _ Kukolka _ .” He told her but made no moves to release her. They both took every ounce of affection that they could from each other as the wind tore through the cell.

She nodded, recognizing that she wasn’t going to get any further with him and that she should just take the win that she’d wanted for so long. When he finally released her and she turned to exit the cell, she realized her mistake, “I almost forgot,” She reached into her pocket for the picture Henry had coloured for his father, “Henry made this for you. He told me to tell you he loves you too.” 

He accepted the picture without even a glance in her direction, instead staring intently down at the scribbled drawing as if it was a masterpiece of Da Vinci himself, “Thank you.” 

She gave him a tearful smile, “No, thank  _ you _ , Antonin.” 

“Will you tell him something for me?”

She nodded, “Of course.”

“Tell him,  _ Pozabot'sya o svoyey materi dlya menya _ .”

She repeated it back to him and turned to leave, “I will get you out of here.” She promised once more, before stepping through the cell and heading back down the hall, not giving him anytime to disagree as she headed back home to her flat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty stanesh' moyey smert'yu, ved'ma. - You’re going to be the death of me, witch.
> 
> Pozabot'sya o svoyey materi dlya menya. - Take care of your mother for me.
> 
> (Russian translations brought to you by Google Translate)
> 
> ***
> 
> Leave me a comment of what you think down below, please and thank you. 🙏 As previously stated, I'm an absolute slut for the love of strangers on the internet. 
> 
> But for now, I think I'll settle for sleep. It's two in the morning and I'm absolutely dead on my feet.
> 
> Stay safe out there, my loves. You're all in my thoughts and prayers.


	8. Just What The Truth Is, I Can't Say Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we're back again! Can I just say, this is so much easier to keep up with now that I'm not posting three freaking stories on the same day! 😂
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did, I would have seduced Captain America by now.
> 
> Per usual, this is not beta'd and barely edited. I swear that I'm planning on going back and editing it fully. TBH, I already have but since I edit by hand I've gotta add in all the changes and as the master procrastinator that I am im taking fucking forever to do so.
> 
> But with out further ado, I present the next chapter to you.

Charlie hadn’t been back to Hogwarts since the final battle. While others had poured their hearts and souls into the project of rebuilding the school, he had slipped quietly back to Romania and drowned his sorrows in many, many bottles of alcohol. There were simply too many memories there, too many unanswered wishes and chances not taken. For nearly two weeks he’d holed up in his cabin on the reserve before Bill had showed up at his door and dragged his sorry arse back to England. After finding himself a flat in London and accepting a job offer as the head magizoologist at the new Dragon Sanctuary in Northern Scotland, he’d slowly settled back into the life he’d once had there. He met up regularly with his friends and his brothers and attended family dinners at the burrow. For all accounts and purposes, he should have been thriving in his life in England, but all he saw was the glaring hole where Thorfinn used to be. 

As he walked through the gates at the edge of Hogsmeade and onto the grounds of the castle, he tried desperately to block out all thoughts revolving around the man who’d made his life hell and worked his way up to heavy main doors where Ginny was waiting with a smile on her face.

“Hey Charlie.” She greeted him with a hug and started leading him through the castle, 

“McGonagall sent me to get you, she figured I might want the chance to see my big brother.”

“When really you just wanted an excuse to get out of class.” He teased, ruffling her red hair as they walked, earning her ire as she punched him in the shoulder.

“Maybe.” She agreed, “But she doesn’t need to know that.”

“I assure you that she already does.”

She shrugged, “Either way, I’m out of class.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be like a prefect or something?”

“Yes, actually.” She smirked up at him, “But don’t go on pretending you didn’t abuse your status when you were here. I know all of the tricks you and Evie and Tonks got up to back in your day.”

“Back in my day?” He snorted a laugh, but continued following her through the hall, “I'm twenty-four, not eighty-four.”

“Same thing.” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading to the headmistress’ office, “Password’s lemon drop.”

“Thanks, kid.” He wrapped her in a quick hug before sending her on her way, chuckling to himself as he watched her dart off in a hurry, no doubt about to skive off the rest of class in some broom closet with Potter. He shuddered at the thought of it, but continued up the stairs and knocked on the door.

“Come in, Mr. Weasley.” Professor McGonagall called out and the doors flung open to admit him. 

“Hello Professor.” He greeted the older woman as he made his way into the room.

“How do you do, Mr. Weasley?” She replied, motioning for him to take the seat across from her next to the roaring fireplace.

He smiled at the woman who hadn’t changed a bit since his days wreaking havoc on the school. She seemed to always be such a steadfast and loyal presence in the school that he couldn’t help but to admire her. Even with her strictness and her high expectations, Charlie knew that the witch really did love her students and the school more than anything else in her life. The thought warmed him slightly as he claimed the seat opposite of her, taking in the slight changes to the office since his own troublemaking days.

“I’m doing alright, professor.” He answered her question, pushing back all of the thoughts of Thorfinn that had invaded his mind the moment he’d stepped through the gate, “How about yourself?”

She chuckled, “These children might finally send me into an early grave, but other than that, I’m doing just fine.” She waved her wand at the tea cart next to them, starting up the process of making it, “Do you know why I’ve asked to meet with you, Mr. Weasley?”

“I haven’t the foggiest, Minnie” He answered with a smirk, accepting the tea cup that she offered him.

She narrowed her eyes at him but continued on, “I’d like to offer you a job.”

Even though he’d been expecting it, he was surprised that she’d even want to hire him. No one in their right mind would choose to trust him with children. Well they may trust him with keeping them alive, but never with keeping them out of trouble. The fact that one of the people he looked up to most in his life was sitting here offering him the world despite all of that made his heart stutter in his chest.

He smiled sadly at her, wishing he could accept, “I appreciate the thought, professor, but I’ve already got a job.” He told her in all seriousness, trying to convey just how much it meant to him that she was offering, “A job that I love.”

She smirked, clearly she had something up her sleeve, “I’d like to offer you a job as the next Care of Magical Creatures Professor.”

_ What.  _

_ The.  _

_ Fuck. _

He choked on his tea, “Care of Magical Creatures?” He exclaimed through his coughing fit, “What about Hagrid?”

“Hagrid wants to retire.” She offered with an elegant shrug of her shoulders, “He’ll still stay on as Gamekeeper, but the war took a lot out of him. I’d like you to take over starting in the Spring semester.”

He was absolutely gobsmacked, his jaw hanging slightly open as he stared at her in stunned silence, fighting to think of the words to speak, “Professor I’m honored, I am, but surely you can find someone that’s a better fit? I’ve promised the sanctuary that I'll be there for at least the next three three years.”

“I’m well aware of your contract with Octavius Lincoln.” She promised him, “He and I are both in agreement that we need someone with your experience and passion raising up the next generation of magizoologists. Your classes here would only be on certain days of the week and the other days would be spent at the sanctuary. You would still be considered a full-time employee there as well as becoming one here. We’ve even agreed on hosting some of your older classes as the sanctuary.”

Charlie stared at her dumbstruck, blown away by the effort the two of them had put into bringing him on board at Hogwarts, “Can I have some time to think about it?”

“Of course.” She smiled at him like the cat that got the canary, a feeling which he was sure she was  _ intimately familiar _ with, “But know that I won't be taking no for an answer.”

He nodded, finishing off his tea, still in shock of the offer, “I’ll get back to you soon, Professor. Thank you for such a wonderful opportunity.”

He stood to go, but stopped when she spoke once more, “There’s something else, Mr. Weasley.” There was something in her voice that sent a ball of worry into his gut, but he sat back down anyways, “I was cleaning out my desk last week and came across something I think you need to see.”

She rose from her spot in the chair opposite of him and moved to her desk, lifting four silver vials from the depths of one of the drawers. 

“Are those…”

“Memories.” She answered, gritting her teeth in obvious frustration, “Albus had many secrets, some that I knew of but dozens that I didn’t. This is one Severus left for me to find. It was under several protective wards and enchantments keyed only to my magical signature.”

Charlie stared at her, “Forgive me, but why are you telling me this?”

“Because you of all people, deserve to know the truth within them.” 

“Whose memories are they?” He asked, the ball of worry in his gut winding tighter.

“I think it's best if you see for yourself.” She told him, skirting his question and waving her wand at the section of wall he knew contained the pensieve. “I will step out to give some privacy, but you need to see them  _ all _ .”

Charlie ignored the apprehension in his stomach and nodded once, accepting the vials and moving to the far wall of the office, staring down at the pensieve with hesitation as she moved out of the room. He held the vials up in his palm, recognizing that whatever was in them was a big deal. There was no going back once he viewed them. Without another thought, he dumped the vials into the dish, knowing that they would sort themselves out, and took a deep breath before plunging in headfirst.

When he first landed he thought he hadn’t even left. He was still in the headmistress’ office. Only when he noticed the differences of the room and spotted the long purple cap that her predecessor favoured did he understand that it wasn’t the case. 

Confused, he watched as the headmaster called for someone to enter as he stood up from his spot at the desk. Charlie was never expecting to see Thorfinn walk through the heavy oak doors looking distinctly uncomfortable. Charlie had no doubt he was in trouble, the Slytherin was constantly called in to face the consequences for some disaster or another. The man had never liked the fact that the four of them were friends outside of their houses and Thorfinn often took the brunt of the headmasters fury being the lone Slytherin.

“Have you made your decision, Mr. Rowle?” Dumbledore asked the teenager, motioning for him to sit down as his twinkling eyes followed him through the room. Charlie had never known Dumbledore to meet with Thorfinn outside of punishment in all of their years of Hogwarts.

“Yes sir.” Thorfinn replied, a look of determination in his eyes as he answered the man, “I want to do it.”

The old man’s own eyes were twinkling with delight, “What I am asking of you will not be easy.”

He nodded once, “I understand, sir.”

“There will be incredible risk involved.”

“Yes sir.”

The worry in Charlie’s gut rolled tighter, sending bile up into his mouth as his understanding grew. He wanted to shout at him not to do it, not to trust the old wizard. To warn him that there was darkness behind the facade of goodness. Even when his parents and siblings had trusted the man with their lives he’d been hesitant to join. Something had always seemed off about him, something lurking beneath the surface.

“You will feel completely alone at times.” The wizened old wizard continued, “You will be forced to sacrifice many of your friendships and live your life as a lie.”

_ No. Merlin, please, no. _

Thorfinn nodded once more, “I’m aware.”

“You’ll have to swear the unbreakable vow.” Dumbledore told him and Charlie screamed in frustration, “Of loyalty and secrecy.”

Thorfinn leveled him with a hard stare, “I’m prepared to make that commitment, sir.”

“Severus will be here momentarily.” Dumbledore replied, “He will do the binding”

Thorfinn nodded and the scene flashed to Severus Snape’s arrival, and the three wizards standing in the center of the office with the potion master’s wand pointed at their clasped hands as Thorfinn swore his fealty. 

“You will never reveal your status as a spy to anyone who doesn’t already know until I, myself, give you permission to do so.” Dumbledore made him swear, and Charlie screamed at him to stop, barely registering the sound of it as his sobs ripped from his chest, he knew Thorfinn couldn’t trust the man, no matter how great everyone made him seem, “You will spend however long it takes devoting your life to the downfall of the Dark Lord. You will work your way through his ranks by using whatever means necessary to do so. You will not hesitate to commit the crimes he asks of you and you will report back to only Severus or myself the information and news that you recieve.” 

Thorfinn agreed with the terms despite the obvious warning in Severus’ eyes and the silent screams Charlie was offering in the memory. 

The binding was soon completed and the memory shifted to a darker one, showing Thorfinn on the ground at the Dark Lord’s feet, being branded with his mark while being simultaneously crucioed by Bellatrix Lestrange. He was screaming in agony as the minutes passed, writhing on the floor beneath him as the mark burned slowly into his skin. Charlie threw himself to his knees as he watched, cursing the name of Albus Dumbledore as he watched the love of his life succumb to the torture he was recieving and black out from the pain. 

The memory changed once more, showing what Charlie knew to be his first kill as Thorfinn stared into the elderly lady who seemed resigned to her fate. He watched as he fought with himself over it, the unbreakable bond winning out as he shot a killing curse right through her chest. He watched as Thorfinn broke down after, hurling into the bushes outside and regretting his decision to serve the great wizard who’d recruited him. 

The scene shifted again, this time showing Thorfinn passing off information to Severus in the quiet corner of a pub, shrouded by muffling charms and multiple shields. He watched as they were both summoned by the Dark Lord, each of them clutching at their forearms in agony before they disapperated to wherever he had called them. 

He saw more bloody battles and torture at the hands of the Dark Lord than he’d ever wanted to see in his lifetime as the memories flashed by, each one worse than the next. He watched as Thorfinn grew colder and more distant as time went on, falling deeper into the realm of darkness Voldemort was known for as Dumbledore demanded more and more of him. As Thorfinn sacrificed a little bit more of his soul with each mission he was sent out on. They ended abruptly before the final battle and Charlie finally recognized who’d been the one to collect the memories.

_ Severus Snape. _

Charlie was screaming when he was booted back into the headmasters’ office, angrier than he’d ever been as he raged in the deserted office. 

_ Thorfinn was innocent.  _

He’d given the last six years of his life in service to the light. He’d sacrificed his friendships and his future in order to take down the Dark Lord.

_ He was a hero _ .

He was a hero and they’d abandoned him.  _ He’d _ abandoned him. Charlie wrestled with the guilt of that as he made his way to the door Minerva had disappeared behind and knocked.

She opened it in an instant, sadness welling in her eyes as she held his gaze. 

“Dora and Evie need to see it.” He told her, not even recognizing the coldness in his own voice, “They need to see that he’s innocent.”

********

Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin had never been happier for her sister than she was when Evie crashed through the Floo of her mother’s house shouting that she was finally going to be able to adopt Henry. Andy had popped a bottle of champagne despite the early hour of the afternoon and they’d spent the next hour sharing in the excitement as Evie cried and smiled and talked a mile a minute about everything she needed to do before their meeting the next Monday.

They were in the middle of making plans for the little boy’s room when their slips of dragonhide had alerted them with an urgent message from Charlie, 

_ Hogwarts, now. _

_ Floo to the Headmistress’ office. _

_ It’s an emergency. _

Tonks shared a look with Evangeline as they both reached for their shoes, Charlie was never one to ask for them so urgently. 

“Mum can you watch Teddy?”

“Of course, love.” Andy replied, looking back and forth between her and Evie’s panicked faces and accepting the baby from her daughter, “Is everything okay?”

“We don’t know.” Evie answered as they rushed around grabbing coats and scarves and sliding into shoes, “It’s Charlie.”

Andy nodded with understanding and stood up to bounce Teddy on her hip as the three of them made their way quickly through the house towards the fireplace, “Let me know as soon as you know.” 

“Of course.” Tonks agreed, shoving Evie into the fireplace before her and giving Teddy a quick kiss before following her through.

She was not expecting to come face to face with an enraged and completely distraught Charlie and an apologetic Minerva Mcgonagall.

“I’m sorry to have called you both here on such short notice.” Minerva told the two of them, pain in her voice as she turned to Charlie, “I’ll give you three some privacy, just let me know when you’re done.”

The two women watched as Minerva disappeared through a door on the far wall and left them alone with Charlie.

“What the fuck is going on, Charlie?” Tonks asked, her anxiety rising with every second as the three of them stood there, “This isn’t at all like you.”

“You need to see this.” He told the two of them, leading them towards the pensieve in the corner that was alight with memories.

“Charlie, who’s memories are these?” Evie asked softly, her eyes resting on the silvery liquid that filled the basin. If anything, she looked terrified at the possibility of diving into someone else’s memories. Tonks made a mental note to check in with her about it later, it wasn’t like her to be terrified of someone else’s memories. For all she knew, there was only one that kept her up at night, only one that haunted her dreams.

He sighed heavily, “They’re regarding Thorfinn” He told the two of them silently pleading with them to trust him. 

Tonks sucked in a breath, “Why would -”

“Just watch the memories and then we’ll talk.” He told her, dragging a hand through his shoulder-length red hair. 

“You’re not joining us?” Evie asked, her eyes wide with fear. 

Charlie held her gaze, “I can’t do it again. The memories…” 

Evie nodded in understanding, “Okay, Charlie.” She agreed, taking a deep breath in preparation for their journey, “It’s okay. We’ll do it. You don’t need to ask us twice.”

Tonks nodded her own head in agreement and reached for her sister’s hand, the two of them moving together to dive into the memories. The moment they laid eyes on Albus Dumbledore, Evie flinched beside her, glaring daggers at the man in question as tears leaked from her eyes. Tonks had never been more confused, but squeezed her sister’s hand in support as the both watched the scene play out before them. 

They both cried out in shock as they watched Thorfinn pledge himself to Dumbledore and inevitably sacrifice himself for the light. As the scenes passed them by they clutched to each other and cried silent tears, watching as Thorfinn did whatever it took to secure and keep his position within Voldemort’s inner circle. Evie was openly sobbing by the time they reached the Battle in the Department of Mysteries, cursing Dumbledore with a vengeance as they watched their friend be tortured for his failures. Tonks stayed silent but didn’t bother to swipe at the tears as more memories swirled past them. She could feel the anger boiling in her chest as she watched Dumbledore’s continued manipulation of their best friend.

_ How had they missed it?  _

_ How had they not known? _

They were supposed to have his back through all things and the moment he’d pledged his service to both Voldemort and Dumbledore, they’d cut him out. When he, no doubt, needed his friends more than ever they’d abandoned him. Bile prickled in her stomach, as she continued to watch the devastating scenes pass them by. She watched as he was forced to torture, to kill. She watched as the light in his eyes, the light he was supposed to be fighting for, dimmed before their own eyes. At that moment in time, she would have done anything to go back in time and change her choice to stay away. 

When the pensieve finally booted them back to reality, Charlie was waiting. 

“He’s innocent.” Evie breathed, fresh tears falling from her eyes as they stood dumbstruck in the headmistress’ office, “How did we not see it?”

“We need to talk to Kingsley.” Tonks decided, desperately trying to keep a lid on her rage as the three of them stared back at the pensieve behind them.

“Minerva says he’s coming to view the memories on Wednesday.” Charlie explained, but anyone with two eyes could see that he refused to wait that long.

“No, we’re taking them to him today.” She told them, waving her wand over the silvery substance and replacing the memories back into their vials, “He’s a fucking hero and he doesn’t deserve to be wasting away in that prison. We’re getting him the  _ fuck _ out.”

Evie nodded in agreement and Charlie moved to update Minerva and thank her for her time. Before long the three of them were on a warpath through the ministry straight up to the minister’s office. Tonks led the way, forcing people to get out of her way with a snarl as they made their way through the crowded hallways. They ignored the minister’s assistant’s sounds of protest as they barged straight into his office, earning a look of surprise from the man himself.

He regained his composure and set down his quill, “Why is it when something happens it’s always you three?”

“Us  _ four _ .” Charlie corrected the man without explanation as Dora slammed the vials down on his desk.

_ There would always be four. _

“You need to see this, sir.” She told him, desperately trying to reign in her anger as she addressed the man she’d always looked up to.

He looked down at the vials in apprehension,“Are these the memories Minerva wanted me to see?”

“Yes.” They answered in unison, leaving no room for argument.

“I’m assuming they cannot wait until Wednesday?” He asked looking to each of them with begrudging acceptance.

“No sir.” Evie replied, her voice scratchy from her sobs, “You need to see them now.”

He pushed away from his desk and stood, “Very well.” They watched as the minister crossed the room and opened the cabinet housing his own pensieve. Before he dove into the memories himself he turned to face them, motioning to the ample seating in his office “Please make yourselves comfortable.”

“Respectfully, sir, I don’t think any one of us feels like getting comfortable right now.” Charlie told him.

Kingsley nodded once in understanding and dove into the memories. The three of them counted the seconds that passed as he remained submerged, knowing that time was hardly relative when it came to viewing memories.

Minutes later, the minister raised from the pensieve with a gasp, “The Wizengamot will need to be informed right away.” He declared and moved swiftly to his desk writing off several memos and sending them flying before turning back to the trio in his office, “I’m going to do everything in my power to fix this.” He promised them.

Dora breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you Minister.” 

Evie broke into sobs once more and Charlie just stood still in apparent shock, as if it was just now beginning to register.

“Evangeline, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to refrain from going to Azkaban until this is resolved,” Kingsley told the crying woman, who automatically began to argue, “I do not want the papers to get wind of this until we’re ready to release a statement of his innocence.” He explained shutting off her objection, “I don’t want to risk a sway in public opinion before a Wizengamot hearing. I want to play this as by the book as possible, I don't need you running off to Azkaban at first notice and upsetting it all.”

She huffed but agreed, though Dora knew that she would probably be slipping off the first chance she got regardless of the man’s insistence. By that point, they realized there was nothing else they could do and so the three of them thanked the Minister and headed back out the way they came. By silent agreement they Flooed to Charlie’s apartment and crashed onto the worn sofa. None of them spoke for a long while as they processed the revelation of the day. Evie was still in tears, the emotion of the day getting to her, and Charlie was curled over himself with his head in his hands, silently cursing himself for missing it. Tonks, on the other hand, leaned back in her seat in a daze, thanking Merlin that she’d never been the one forced to do the unthinkable in an effort to bring him in. 

After a little while, Charlie sat up and pulled his slip of dragonhide from his pocket, clutching it tightly to his chest and sending off a message of apology to Thorfinn with his own tears streaming down his cheeks. Tonks quickly followed suit, promising to get him out and gripping the slip of leather so tightly, Charlie had to pry it from her hands by replacing it with a bottle of vodka, the perfect drink to bury their sorrows in. Evie was the last to send off a message, a sob of anguish ripping from her chest as the message went through. Tonks watched as it appeared on her own slip, 

_ I was so fucking wrong.  _

_ You’re not a monster, you’re a hero. _

_ I’m so sorry, Thor. _

_ We’re getting you out, I swear it on my soul. _

If there was one thing the three of them could agree on it was those four sentences. Even if it took the rest of their lives, they were going to get him out of there. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My little 100 loving heart just couldn't resist sneaking in another reference. 😉
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you think. Your comments and love are my bread and butter and I LOVE hearing your thoughts and ideas about everything! 
> 
> Stay safe out there, my loves. ❤️


	9. If I Could Turn Back The Clock, I’d Make Sure The Light Defeated The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, warning time. I wrote the dialogue for this and then forgot to fill in the rest until today and I am tripping hard on pain meds right now and should definitely not be trusted with heavy machinery let alone the written word and the power and responsibility that comes with it. (I totally feel like spiderman right now). 
> 
> Anyways its not edited and barely written and I promise I'm gonna come back and fix it but right now I really just want a nap and some popcorn and maybe I'll get in a good cry and watch all my favorite sick day movies later (The Princess Bride, The Princess Diaries 2, Ever After, The Sound of Music, & Gone With The Wind - seriously the best of the best of the best with The Goonies thrown in there for good measure) but for now I give you this monstrosity of chaos.
> 
> I own nothing. If I did id be doing something ridiculous with one of my many celebrity crushes. or maybe with all of them. I've never tried an orgy before.... anyways before this completely goes off the rails here you go.
> 
> Oh! What I meant to say before I got distracted is it might be a little dialogue heavy. Forgive me please!

Evangeline had never been more grateful for her family seat than she was on the morning of Friday, December 18th, 1998. In the final session of the Wizengamot’s deliberations over Thorfinn’s trial, emotions were running high. Though everyone involved was under a gag order until the official decision and release by the ministry, it didn’t stop the tempers from flaring between sessions. There had been more heated arguments throughout the halls of the ministry in the past few days than there had been in years. As it was a closed session, no one outside of the seat-holder’s were allowed into the courtroom and she knew that half of the Weasley family as well as Dora, Remus, and Minerva sat waiting outside. While she had chosen to fill the Rosier seat after coming of age and had sat in on many heated and important sessions held within the ministry, never had she been so nervous for the outcome of a session before. She’d spoken out of turn so many times in the past four hours that Kingsley had started threatening to silence her at every word she spoke. When Dora and Charlie were both called on as witnesses, she had to bite her tongue in an effort not to tear into the people who sought to tear their testimony apart. 

With Augusta Longbottom to her right and Andromeda filling the Black family seat to her left at the request of Sirius, Evie knew that there were a great many witches and wizards on the council that would see reason and fight for the man who’d been her best friend for so long. Still, it was hard to hear others argue for keeping him locked up simply as precaution. Her blood had been boiling since the moment they’d set foot in the courtroom on Wednesday. It wasn’t until Kingsley offered the memories up for everyone to view that the tides finally started to turn. After everyone in the room viewed the memories, a vote was called. Evie held her breath as the secret votes were counted of all those in favor of Thorfinn’s release. 

As Kingsley announced each member’s vote, Evie felt her anxiety ease a little more with each name. With Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy taking the same stance on the issue for the first time in many people’s memory, it was hardly surprising when the Minister counted the tally and announced the impending release of Thorfinn, many of them had been silently counting along with him but Evie let out a joyful whoop of excitement regardless. There was a great burst of applause that filled the cavernous room as Kingsley released them from the gag and many of the members rushed out of the room in excitement. Charlie and Dora were waiting among the hordes of press in the main atrium, anxious to hear the results as Kingsley approached the podium and addressed the crowd.

“As your elected Minister of Magic,” Kingsley began, “I was shocked to learn of such a gross miscarriage of justice revolving the case of Thorfinn Alarik Rowle.” There was an uproar of protest from the crowd surrounding them as Kingsley pressed on, “I am proud to say that the decision of the Wizengamot today reflects his status as an unsung hero of the war with Voldemort and from this moment forward, Mr. Rowle will be released with all charges against him dropped.” The yells of protest grew louder as Kingsley continued unperturbed, “Furthermore, He will be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, for his heroics and service to the light in the war. I will not be taking questions at this time, but I urge each of you not to make any rash judgements in terms of this case.”

Evie watched as the men and women surrounding the podium broke into further uproar, demanding to know more and calling for the minister’s head as he stepped away from the microphone and nodded for Evie, Charlie, and Dora to follow him. They joined him on his swift retreat to his office, none of them speaking until they were safely sequestered away from any prying eyes. 

The Minister turned to face them, “Given your continued access to the prison, Evie, your status as an auror, Tonks, and frankly the fact that I'd be terrified to leave you out Charlie, I’d like the three of you to accompany me to the prison for his release.”

The three of them agreed wholeheartedly and followed him to his fireplace, joining him on the journey to Azkaban. The same Auror that had greeted Evie on her Monday visits welcomed them to the prison and led them up to Thorfinn’s cell without preamble. 

Evie’s heart was nearly beating out of her chest as they made their way through the prison. With every level they passed through, Dora’s grip tightened on her arm and Charlie’s breathing deepened. It was not lost on Evie that this was the first time either of them were seeing him since the battle, she didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse for them. All she had been able to think of over the past few days was how she wished she could take back every word she’d spoken against him. That she could have just not dragged him up against the bars and yelled at him. She hated herself for being so callous, for not realizing that the Thorfinn she knew, the Thorfinn she grew up with, would never willingly turn to the dark. Above all else, she wished she’d kept her faith in him. 

When they reached the level that contained the majority of Voldemort’s upper ranks, Evie pushed past Kingsley and ran down the hall towards Thorfinn’s cell with her two best friends hot on her tail. She ignored the cheap shots that the other prisoners shot in their direction and skidded to a stop in front of his cell. He was facing the wall, ignoring the commotion in the hallway as he bounced a ball against the stone. 

“Thorfinn.” Charlie spoke first, watching as the man’s head whipped around to face the three of them, his eyes wild as he blinked slowly. It was as if he thought he was imagining them, “We’re getting you out.”

Kingsley had arrived by that point, huffing slightly before addressing the man who they’d abandoned, “Thorfinn Alarik Rowle, as of this moment forward, you’ve been cleared of all charges and are a free man.” Thorfinn was speechless as Kingsley released the lock on the cell with a swish of his wand.

Thorfinn hesitated, “I’m free?” He asked, not yet stepping from his cell, like he was scared that if he made one wrong move, the whole world would come crashing down.

Dora nearly choked on the words as she answered him, “You’re free.”

He stepped from the cell and into the hallway, a smile lighting up his face as none of them moved or spoke for several minutes, like no one quite knew what to do next. There was years worth of baggage and betrayal between them, what if it wasn’t the same?

_What if he never forgave them?_

Thorfinn smiled, a true and genuine grin of elation as he wrapped his mind around the thought of freedom, “Finally.” He laughed and the tension fell away. For the first time since the summer after graduation, they were a _family_ again.

Charlie reached for him first, wrapping him up in a massive hug before grasping his chin between his fingers and holding his gaze as he spoke, “I’m so sorry, Thor.” There were tears in the both of their eyes as unspoken words passed between them. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Thorfinn promised him, tilting his head forward to rest against the shorter man’s, “Nothing, Charlie.”

Dora launched on him next, without much warning, and he caught as easily as he always had, letting her wrap her arms around his neck and sob against him as he held her close. Her jumbled apologies were barely understood as she cried, but he assured her that it wasn’t necessary either way. 

Evie hung back, hating herself more with every passing second as she watched the reunion in the hallway of the prison. She watched as the other inmates hurled obscenities at them, being silenced by the minister could only do so much. She shrunk even further into herself as Thorfinn set Dora down and sought her out. She watched, frozen in place, as he strode towards her with a sad smile.

She hadn’t even realized she was crying until he wiped one of her tears away with his thumb, “I-”

“I know.” He told her, and in that moment she knew he did. He knew how much she hated herself for the words she’d hurled at him through the bars. That she would never forgive herself for it. That she would spend the rest of her days making it up to him. Before she could reply, he wrapped her up in his arms and held her close, her sobs wracking through the both of them as she locked her arms around his middle and cried. 

“Let’s go home.” Charlie spoke when they finally released each other, his lopsided grin bringing smiles to the rest of their faces as Kinglsey agreed and began leading back towards the exit.

Thorfinn dropped an arm over Charlie’s shoulder as they went, sinking back into his easy going self as they walked towards the steel door. Evie couldn’t help but to rejoice as they descended the stairs and passed through the many corridors of inmates until they reached the traveling room. 

But as Kingsley handed off the floo powder she realized that she couldn’t leave yet. She couldn’t leave without seeing him. She didn’t understand it, but she knew she had to see him. She had to tell him it was possible.

She turned to her friends, catching Thorfinn’s eyes as she made her decision, “There’s something I have to do first.” 

Dora nodded in semi-understanding, “Meet us at mine when you’re done.” She told her, accepting the box of floo powder and stepping up towards the fireplace. 

She smiled in agreement and turned to exit the room, fleeing to the top floor, completely unaware of the blatant curiosity in the minister’s eyes as he watched her go.

By the time she reached his cell, she was completely out of breath and flushed. Dolohov jumped at the sight of her, clearly caught off guard by her sudden appearance, dropping the book he’d been reading on his bed and crossing the cell to stand in front of her. 

“ _Dorogoy_ , what are you doing here?” He asked her as she slipped into the cell and turned to face him, tears dripping from her eyes, “Are you hurt?” He began obsessively checking her for injuries despite her shaking her head in reply, “Is it Henry? Is he okay? Who do I need to kill?” It was obvious at that moment, that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill to protect them both, it was a feeling Evangeline didn’t quite know what to do with.

“We’re both fine, Antonin.” She promised him through the tears, but even her assurance did nothing to stop him from trying to find injuries on her body. She grabbed both of his hands and shoved them away before enveloping him in a hug, “I just needed to see you.”

“Evangeline…” He warned her, his voice low as he kept his arms at his side.

“Shut up and hold me, Antonin.” She whispered, her request muffled by his broad chest. 

To her surprise, he didn’t keep her waiting. He simply wrapped his arms tightly around her and dropped his head to her hair, neither of them speaking as they stood in the middle of his cell wrapped up in each other's embrace, the wind and rain raging around them. Even though they were in the most desolate place on earth, Evie could not deny the sense of comfort and safety in Antonin Dolohov’s arms. 

_He felt like home._

The thought scared the shit out of her though she sagged against him burrowing deeper into his embrace as the cold nipped at her ankles, the adrenaline of her run up the stairs fading further the longer they stood there. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said finally, still not making any effort to remove himself from the embrace. If anything he held her tighter to him, as if she would slip away as soon as he released her.

“I don’t care.”

“Evie-” Her name was a growl at her ear, a warning that she knew she should heed.

“We got Thorfinn out.” She whispered, wincing at his flinch against her.

“Dear fucking _Merlin_ , please tell me you’re not here to break me out!” He snapped at her, pulling her tighter against him as he cursed a long string of russian against her hair.

“No, I wouldn’t be that reckless.” She assured him, snuggling deeper into him, “Wizengamot released him because there was new information brought to light regarding -” 

He groaned, lifting his head to stare at the ceiling in silent prayer, “If you think you can just waltz into Wizengamot with your returned memories and insist -”

“Why not?” She challenged him, tilting her head up to face him, wincing once more at the rage that boiled in the depths of his eyes, “You didn’t murder my parents, you stubborn bastard! The world deserves to know that you didn’t! Dumbledore deserves to be remembered for the murderer he was, not fucking idolized - ”

“Swear to me, Evangeline.” He interrupted her with a certain sense of desperation, shaking her slightly as he stared down at her, “Swear to me that you won’t go raising hell about this.” 

“No!” She shouted at him, pushing him off and taking several steps back as they squared off in the freezing cell, “You deserve justice, Antonin. We _both_ deserve justice.”

“Not when it puts you in danger.” He growled, “Not when pursuing it could leave my son orphaned yet again.”

“Henry needs his father!”

“What he needs is his _mother_.” He spat, chest heaving in anger as he fought to keep a tight rein on his sense of control. She could see it slipping as she watched him, and she caught herself wishing he’d just let it go completely. For some deranged reason, she wanted to see him lose that careful sense of control he exerted over himself. As if seeing him come apart would bring them closer. But neither of them spoke as the words settled between them, neither of them wanting to admit defeat as they stared at each other in challenge. Even if she longed to feel his loss of control, she knew this wasn’t the time or the place.

Slowly she crossed the space between them and reached up to cup his cheek, swiping her thumb across his stubbled jaw, “I’m not giving up on this, Antonin.” the flash of curiosity over how he was able to shave while locked up in here crossed her mind as she revelled in the feeling of the coarse hairs as they prickled against the pads of her fingers. 

He stared down at her, unspoken emotion shining in his eyes as he held her gaze. “I know.” He said with a heavy sigh of acceptance, “Just please be careful, _Kukolka_.”

She smiled sadly up at him, “I promise.” She assured him as he reached for her, wrapping her tightly up in his arms once more. 

“You need to go.” He whispered into her hair, dropping his head down to her ear and making no moves to release her. She tried to hide her surprise, for the first time since she’d started visiting his cell, he was the one initiating their embrace. It was yet another piece of information she didn’t know what to do with.

She sighed and turned to face him, their noses brushing once with the closeness, “Not yet.” She pleaded with him, her own voice barely audible.

“Evie…” He pleaded with her, lifting his head back up and putting more distance between them. 

“Don’t speak.” She whispered to him as his arms tightened around her waist and she breathed in the scent of him, sinking deeper into his embrace, “Just hold me a little longer.”

He groaned but refused to relinquish his hold on her, “You’re trouble, _Solnyshka_.” 

She chuckled, “You’ve always known that.”

“ _Ty ubivayesh' menya zdes'_.”

She tilted her head back to look at him, “What does that mean?”

He let out a deep breath, shaking his head as he did so, “That you’re killing me, Evangeline.”

“Will you teach me to speak it?” She asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because then you could understand what I’m saying, _Kukolka_.”

“Would that really be so bad?”

“The end of the world.” He assured her, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist and resting his chin atop her head.

“Arsehole.” She grumbled, burying her nose back against his chest.

“I’m much worse than that.”

She snorted indelicately, “I’m fully aware.”

“Your father would murder me if he knew you were here.” He told her, but it was almost more of a reminder for himself as his hands moved to brush against the thin sleeves of her shirt , “Where is your coat?”

She shrugged against him, burrowing deeper into his chest, “I forgot it.” 

He cursed beneath his breath, “You’ll get yourself sick.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

“I know.” Her voice was barely a whisper against the sound of the wind whipping through the cell.

He sighed heavily, “It’s time for you to go, you’ve been here too long.”

“I know.”

He released her then, a certain sadness lingering in his eyes as he gazed down at her, “Give my love to Henry.”

“Always.” She smiled up at him, “I’ll see you Monday.”

“Monday.” He agreed with a slight grimace, “Bring the papers.”

She nodded and turned to exit the cell, surprised to see the Minister of Magic standing just past Antonin’s line of sight. He raised a finger to his lips and she exited the cell, his eyes wide with disbelief as she kept quiet about his presence and followed him down the long hall in silence.

“You followed me.” She stated, as the first heavy metal door closed behind them and she rounded on her other godfather, “Why?”

“I had to know.” He told her, pain lingering in the depths of his deep brown eyes as he stared at her. 

“Know what?” She asked, her anxiety kicking into high gear.

He sighed, leaning against the stone wall behind him in exhaustion, “If what I suspected was true.”

Her breath caught, “What did you suspect?”

“Dumbledore.”

How that one little word could incite such a myriad of emotions, Evangeline didn’t understand. The man of which they spoke had been such a prominent fixture in each of their lives. Kingsley had admired him from the moment he was sorted into Gryffindor all those years ago, he’d been the wizard’s right hand for all accounts and purposes. She didn’t know whether to be terrified or grateful for the fact that he now knew that it had all been a lie, “How -”

“Alastor and I always had our suspicions.” He admitted, holding her inquisitive and accusing gaze with his own courageous strength as they stood on the top of the silent stairwell, “We always knew there was more going on behind the scenes than anyone else realized. I assume he removed the block on your memories?”

She froze, panic building further in her throat before she could even think to stop it. But this was Kingsley, the man who’d been her mother’s best friend in school, one of her three godparents, one of the few people she knew would drop everything for her, “How’d you know of it?”

He frowned at her, as if he was picking up on her own inner turmoil, “Alastor mentioned it a long time ago, not specifically in regards to you, but I put two and two together.”

It was now or never, “Dumbledore killed my parents.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath, saw how he slumped heavily against the wall, witnessed how his face contorted in a mess of pain and anguish. 

“I wanted so badly to be wrong.” She heard him say, but she could not form the words to reply. He gathered her up in his arms before she could do anything more, “I’m so sorry, Evangeline.” His voice was a broken sob, as if he too was coming to terms with the fact that the man he’d fought for, the man he’d been willing to die for, was just as much a monster as Voldemort himself, “I cannot even imagine what you’re going through.”

Her tears began to fall as his own leaked onto her cheek, “I _fought_ for him.” came her own brokken whisper.

“We’ll fix this.” He promised her, “Somehow, we’ll fix this.”

She pulled away to level him with her own stubborn stare, “I want Dolohov released.”

He would have laughed if not for the seriousness of the situation, she could see that, “Absolutely not!”

She all but growled at him, “Kings, the main charge he’s in for is the murder of my parents!”

“Only because he was too smart to get caught with the others!”

“Kings…”

He shook his head, refusing to cave, “No, Evie.”

“I’m not going to let this go.” She warned him as they began descending the stairs. 

He sighed, following behind her, “I know.”

They made their way through the prison in silence, ignoring the calls of the prisoners and not making eye contact with each other as they walked. Kingsley was deep in thought, no doubt weighing the consequences of every action he could take with the situation and seeking out some sort of compromise or alternative in his mind. If he wasn’t so stubbornly courageous, the man would have made a good Slytherin. Every move he made, whether political or otherwise, was part of a well executed strategy. Every moment of his life was planned and accounted for, every hindrance prepared for. 

The thought poured from her mouth before she’d even had a chance to process it as they stepped into the traveling room, “Is this why you gave me unlimited access to the prison?”

He glanced over at her, seemingly unsurprised that she’d figured it out, “Part of it.”

“The other part?” She pressed. 

“Classified.”

She huffed, “I’m getting him out, Kings. With or without your help.”

“Promise me you won’t do something reckless, like break him out.” “I’ve got enough people calling for my head without escaped Death Eaters running around London.”

Sha laughed darkly, “I’m surprised that you’re even admitting that I could.”

“If anyone could, it’d be you.” he assured her with an exasperated smile of his own, “You could always ask Sirius for pointers.”

“Don’t give me any ideas.”

He sobered, “Just be careful, Evie.” He reminded her, his warning clear, “You know as well as I, how many people idolize Albus Dumbledore.”

She nodded, “He told me the same thing. He refuses to let me try and free him.” She assured him, “I’m pretty sure that if I did try and break him out he’d refuse simply because it was me.”

Kingsley eyed her suspisiously, “I was surprised to see the two of you so close.”

She leveled him with a glare, “We’re not talking about that.”

He held up his hands in surrender.

“Promise me you’ll try.” She pleaded with him as she stepped up to the floo, “I’ll make you the gingerbread cake you like so much.”

He sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes, and she knew she had him, “I’ll do what I can.” 

If only the rest of the wizarding world knew of his achilles heel when it came to baked goods… it was the only bribe he didn’t turn down, “Thanks Kings.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He grumbled, “Now go see Thorfinn.”

“Gladly.” She agreed, tossing the powder, “Bye Kings!”

She then stepped into the fireplace and shouted out her destination, arriving in Dora’s living room with a flourish. The three of her closest friends were sitting on the couch, a bottle of scotch shared between them and a bag of crisps on the table in front of them. They welcomed her with easy hellos, the scene before her reminding her of their school days as she took it in and grabbed a handful of crisps. Dora was lying out on the floor at Charlie’s feet, propped up against some pillows as she was known to do. Charlie kicked at her occasionally from his spot in the corner of the couch behind her, asking for more chips from the table that was within her reach and Thorfinn was reclining on the couch, with his feet stretched out across it, drink in hand. He patted his lap in invitation, a gesture of a time long past as she listened in on their conversation.

Slipping into old habits, she climbed easily onto his lap and snuggled up against him, recognizing the difference between his embrace and Antonin’s. There was nothing but brotherly affection in Thorfinn’s hug. It was something they’d been doing forever, the two of them had latched onto each other so easily as children who’d lost their parents. Sure, she’d had Andy and Ted and Alastor and, hell, even Kingsley and he still had his father and extended family. But they’d seen something in each other from the very first time they’d met at five years old and had become the family each of them desired. She couldn’t even count the times he’d shown up at Andy’s house, crying in the middle of the night and curling up in bed with her and Dora as Andy and Ted had looked on with concern for the little boy. It was better than words could even describe to know that that hadn’t changed as they lounged in Dora’s living room together. 

They spent the afternoon and well into the evening catching up on the last six years and hearing the story from Thorfinn’s own mouth of his time spent as a spy for Dumbledore. They laughed together and cried together as they celebrated his release and spent their night eating and drinking and laughing over the memories of their Hogwarts pranks. Teddy was staying at Andromeda’s for the night and Remus was over at Grimmauld with Sirius and Harry, who was just getting back from Hogwarts for the holidays. Even though he could come back to London whenever he wanted to, the boy mostly stayed at the school, enjoying his last year without responsibilities and with the majority of his friends. 

After the last year, the school’s governors had decided to allow some of the older students to travel back and forth between the grounds and their homes, recognizing that they’d been through much more than other kids their age and deserved the freedom that came with it. The returning seventh and eighth years could come and go as they pleased and leave for the entire weekend if they chose, the fifth and sixth years could travel home on the weekends via side along apparition with their parents or guardians or the floo that’d been set up in the head of house offices, and the younger years could travel home via the Hogwarts Express every other weekend. It was a system that allowed for the older students, like Neville and Harry, to be involved at the children’s home and offered them ample opportunity to start working on internships and things as they finished their educations. It was how Hermione was getting a jumpstart on her ministry career and how Luna was able to spend so much time at the Children’s home. Her thoughts continued to drift to the children’s home and Henry as the night grew darker. She knew she’d have to be going soon if she was going to be there before he woke up in a fuss.

By the time Charlie convinced Thorfinn to go home with him and stay in his apartment until he found his own (Dora and Evie both shared a look at that, knowing the two men would be living together for the rest of their lives), it was nearly midnight. She followed them to the fireplace, thanking Dora for hosting and wrapping each of them up in a massive hug before departing for the manor.

As she curled up next to Henry later that night, her writing set aside and the lamp dimmed, she brushed a hand through his curls and let the silent tears escape down her cheeks, the events of the day finally catching up to her. She fell asleep to the tortured thought of Antonin staying locked up forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOm. 
> 
> Show me love please.
> 
> ***
> 
> Kukolka - Little Doll  
> Ty ubivayesh' menya zdes'. - You’re killing me here.  
> Solnyshka - Small Sun, Sunshine  
> Dorogoy - Darling


	10. And Now We’re Grown Up Orphans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Flies in on a jetpack dragging the mess of a chapter behind me*
> 
> I own nothing and this is (very obviously) not beta'd. I spent the majority of the last week flat on my back in pain and could not write so I got super behind on my other fics and have spent the last two days writing and playing catch-up. I'm not super happy with this chapter and plan on going back in the next couple days and fixing up everything that I hate about it. But I owe y'all a chapter today, so here goes.

Sunday Dinner at The Burrow was almost as deadly as the final battle itself, Evie had known it would be from the moment they convinced Thor to join them. Even though Molly had refused to take no for an answer from Thorfinn when she’d invited him and Andy had backed her up, saying that it was family tradition and he knew the rules as well as anyone, he had been skeptical. He knew, just as well as the rest of them, what a bad idea it could turn out to be, but had agreed anyways. 

As they walked up the front path to the crooked house together on Sunday afternoon, the four of them plus Sirius, Remus, Andy, and Teddy in a blatant show of solidarity, she couldn’t help but notice the tightness in the younger generation’s faces from where they lounged in the weather controlled garden. Harry and Hermione regarded him with obvious apprehension, which wasn’t surprising given their past interactions with the man, and while Ron and Ginny seemed a little more torn, no doubt driven by their memories of their brother’s best friend, Evie knew they didn’t quite know what to think. Adding in Draco, Theo, and Blaise’s presence and this could go very bad very fast. Bill, ever the big brother and peacekeeper, was the first to greet them, knocking shoulders with Charlie and wrapping Thor in a one armed hug that all but screamed bromance. He was quick to introduce a heavily pregnant Fleur who greeted him with an excited kiss to the cheek before asking for embarrassing stories about her husband. 

Thorfinn took it all in stride, letting the woman lead him towards the house and only relinquishing her arm when Molly burst out of the side door in excited exuberance and wrapped the much taller man up in a hug full of motherly love before insisting he was skin and bones and needed to join her in the kitchen so she could work on fattening him back up. Andy trailed after them, conversing with Molly over just what they were going to do with his hair and adding comments of fixing him up with a nice girl. Evie and Dora tried to contain their laughs as they turned their attention to Teddy’s stroller, busying themselves with unstrapping the baby and digging through the diaper bag for a bottle as they hid their shit-eating grins in their tasks, ignoring the growing tension surrounding them. It was bound to come to a head, as the kitchen door slammed behind the trio, leaving the group of them alone and on the defensive.

“Did you have to bring him here?” Harry was the first to ask, surprising the lot of them with his statement. He was usually so willing to forgive and move forward, but anger was shining in his eyes.

“He’s a part of this family, Harry.” Sirius snapped at him, taking the most fatherly tone she’d ever heard him use. It must have surprised Harry too, as his eyes widened at Sirius’ words.

“He’s a killer.” Hermione protested, and though Evie was surprised at her statement, she was not surprised at her choice to stand with her best friend.

“He did what he had to.” Evie couldn’t help but snap at the girl, silently cursing their naivety in thinking that the world could be so black and white. That wars could be fought without the many shades of grey.

“He could be deceiving you all.” Ron decided, standing with his friends to no one’s surprise, though he did look a little bit more unsure than the rest of them.

“Oh yes, because you’d know better than the entire Wizengamot, Ronnikins.” Fred chimed in as he and George crashed into the garden out of nowhere, literally just tumbling out of midair, “Maybe you should take over dad’s seat-”

“- Since you seem to be more enlightened than the lot of them.” George finished for his twin, collapsing into the grass and leaning against the stone wall that surrounded them, “I, for one, am happy to have his pranking genius back in our midst.” He turned to Charlie, ignoring Sirius and Remus’ squalks of offence, “Think he’d be interested in working with us at the store?”

Charlie shrugged, “Ask him.”

“That we will.” The twins spoke in unison. 

“Are none of you even concerned?” Harry questioned, his temper flaring as he looked wildly from person to person. “He was there when Snape killed Dumbledore! He burned down Hagrid’s house! He tracked us through London and almost killed us!”

“If you can forgive Snape, you can forgive Thorfinn.” Charlie growled at the boy, surprising the younger generation with his wrath. They only knew him as the easy going rebel, they didn’t know of his protective streak of the man in question. Of how willing he’d be to kill for him. Of how often he almost had. Evie knew that if Thorfinn’s father had lived past the end of the war he wouldn’t have made it home without meeting his death at the end of Charlie’s wand. 

“Snape was different!” Hermione insisted, though they could see the fight breaking out in her head. 

“Snape is the reason we won the war!” Harry agreed

“So is Thorfinn!” Evie snapped at the two of them, just as Dora handed off Teddy to Remus… not a good sign,“Do you know how much intel we would have missed out on if not for his sacrifice?”

Dora stepped up to him before either of them could reply, “You listen here, Harry James Potter.” She growled at the man, going full mama bear as she fought to protect her best friend, “Thorfinn is our best friend, he’s our fucking brother, you hear me? He is a member of this fucking family and nothing you say will change that.” She all but spat at the wide-eyed boy-who-lived, “Now you’re going to treat him as such or else I will remove you as one of Teddy’s godparents and make Thorfinn the third instead, understood?”

The boy who lived nodded, his fear and respect for the auror outweighing his distrust.

But Dora wasn’t finished, she turned to face Hermione, “I don’t care what he’s done. I don’t care what you think. He is  _ family _ and that is final.”

She made a move to protest but Evie cut her off, “I’m calling in your life debt to me,” there was an intake of breath at that, it was not a light oath to invoke, “You will not speak another word against him and you will treat him with just as much respect as the rest of us.”

Hermione paled but nodded, for once not saying anything more as the tension continued to build between them.

“Well, now that that’s settled, how about a friendly game of quidditch?” Ron suggested, accepting the situation without a fight and nodding towards the field behind the house where they’d been known to play some friendly matches. The group of them agreed instantly and Charlie went to retrieve Thorfinn from the kitchen.

Before long, a whole mess of them were racing through the air in a friendly game, though the tension still permeated the air as they faced off, but Harry was soon too involved in his chase of the snitch against Draco to focus his animosity on Thorfinn and Hermione was settled on the ground next to Remus with her nose in a book.

Evie watched as Thorfinn worked as a beater with Charlie on the opposite team, the two of them complimenting each other perfectly as they weaved through the mess of brooms in the air and scored point after point. 

By the time the snitch was caught and Molly was calling them into dinner, the tension had all but dissipated. They ate in the garden, watching as the snow began to fall beyond the wards and talking of the plans for the upcoming holidays.

By the time dessert had finished, Teddy was asleep against Sirius’ shoulder and the younger few headed up to the attic to hang among themselves. The rest of them settled into the living room for drinks and conversation as they rewelcomed Thorfinn into the family. At fifteen until eight, Evie made her excuses and said her goodbyes, moving to the fireplace to Floo to the manor for Henry’s bedtime.

Just before she was whisked away, she heard Thorfinn ask Charlie what was at the manor and his response, “Her son.”

She smiled to herself as she climbed out of the fireplace and made her way up the stairs to the playroom, surprised when Ellen caught her in the hallway a slight panic in her voice, “We were just about to call you.” She told the younger woman, “Henry’s had a rough night, he fought bathtime and refused his dinner and has been teetering on the edge of a tantrum all day. I think he might have a fever, but he’s refusing to let anyone get close enough to tell.”

Evie’s breath caught, “Where is he now?” 

“In his room.” She replied, sending Evie a sympathetic but tired smile, “I’m sorry, I tried everything.”

“It’s okay, I know that you did.” Evie assured her, laying a hand on her shoulder in understanding before they made their way back down the hallway, “Did he eat  _ anything  _ at dinner?”

She shook her head, “We couldn’t get him bathed either. He was sloshing around so much we were scared he’d hurt himself.”

“One missed bath isn’t going to hurt anything.” She told the woman as they reached the door.

“Let me know if you think you need the thermometer or anything.” Ellen called after her as the older woman began making her way back down the hall, “Though honestly? I think he just wants his mum.”

Evie nodded, smiling in thanks before slipping quietly into the room where Henry was sitting on the floor still in his day clothes with his arms crossed and an angry pout tugging at his lips, he was facing the corner, obviously in timeout, and hadn’t noticed her yet. She couldn’t help but notice his similarities to Antonin as she made her way towards him. He looked up at her with tears in his eyes as she slid down the wall next to him, but didn’t move from his spot. He never moved from his spot in timeout, it was part of the reason she didn’t  _ ever  _ put him in it. He’d been abused so much by Voldemort that he thought he’d be cursed if he moved even a muscle. She wanted to wring Ellen’s fucking neck for putting him there.

“Come on out of timeout, baby.” She whispered to him, opening her arms for him to climb into, “You’re not in trouble.”

He obliged slowly, tentatively crawling into her lap with a hesitation that brought tears to her eyes. She wrapped her arms around him as he collapsed against her chest and sobbed, body shaking cries that had no business coming from a child, let alone her son. 

“No hurt, mummy.” He cried into her neck, “I don’t want Miss Ellen to hurt.”

“No one’s going to hurt you, baby.” She whispered, trying desperately to rein in her own emotion, “No one’s ever going to hurt you.”

He nodded in understanding but kept crying against her, breaking her heart to pieces as she cradled him closer. She soothed his tears and ran gentle circles up and down his back as he continued to cry, eventually moving to stand and walking him around the room as he wore himself out with the tears.

“I’m going to talk with Ellen, love.” She told him, “She knows better than to put you in timeout.”

He shuddered against her and she pushed down the need to track down the woman and strangle her once more, instead focusing on calming the toddler in her arms. When his cries subsided a bit more, she stopped at the dresser, “How about we get you into your PJs, okay love?”

He looked up at her with his big blue eyes, his father’s eyes, “No bath?”

“Do you want one tonight?” He shook his head vehemently, “Do you know why?”

“No water.” He croaked shivering slightly at the word and she scrunched her brow in confusion but didn’t push him. He’d never been scared of the water before. 

“Then no bath tonight.” She told him with a reassuring smile, “Do you want to pick out some jammies and then we can go find you a little something to eat?”

“Space cowboys.” He decided, and she pulled the chosen pajamas from the drawer, slipping on a fresh pullup and dressing him in the footie pajamas. He made grabby hands as she stood, wordlessly asking to be held before she scooped him up into her arms and carried him out of the room and down to the kitchen. Keeping him perched on her hip, she fixed him his favorite snack of banana slices and peanut butter.

“Don’t forget the special ones!” He reminded her, asking for her to leave some of the round slices without peanut butter on the plate.

“Never.” She assured him with a smile, leaving several to his liking before setting the plate on the bar side of the counter and pouring him a sippy cup of milk. 

“Mummy?” He asked as she claimed one of the barstools and set him on the counter in front of her.

“Yes love?” 

“Is Daddy ever coming home?” 

“Is that what’s been upsetting you today?” She asked him carefully, watching as he slowly devoured the plate of food.

He shrugged, reaching for his sippy cup, “Guess so.”

She carded her fingers gently through his curls, brushing them back out of his eyes as she thought of how to answer him, “I’m doing everything I can to bring him home.” She assured him with a small smile, “Is there anything else bothering you?”

“Lissy left.” He whimpered, referring to Felicity who’d just been adopted that morning, leaving just Henry, Tommy, and Beau in the house. She knew that Beau and Tommy’s new parents were finalizing their own adoption with the ministry in the morning, and then the house would be sitting empty, “She’s my friend!”

“And she’ll still be your friend.” She promised him, “She’s being adopted by one one of my friends from school so we’ll make sure you all have all kinds of playdates and field trips, okay?”

He looked up at her, hope shining in his eyes, “Promise?”

“Pinky swear.” She agreed, making a show of sticking out her pinky for him to lock with his own. That seemed to satisfy him as he turned back to his banana slices.

“Can I tell you something, Henry?” She asked him, knowing it was time he knew of her official adoption of him the next day.

He nodded his head, “Uh-huh.” he agreed, the sound muffled by the banana in his mouth.

“Tomorrow morning your Daddy and I are signing the papers so that I can adopt you.” She told him, “And then I'll get to take you home.”

His eyes lit up in excitement, “Home?” 

“Home.” She agreed, smiling as he gave an excited little cheer, “I’ve got you a room all set up with toys and clothes and all kinds of art supplies.”

“And stars up high?” He asked her, asking after the glow-in-the-dark stars that were currently stuck to his ceiling in the manor.

“And stars up high.” She agreed, remembering what a time Charlie and Thorfinn had had sticking the things to the ceiling over the weekend. She’d never forget the sight of Charlie perched on Thorfinn’s shoulders grumbling about not being as tall as the bloody giant and cursing up a storm as he stretched to reach. She had never been more thankful for their insistence that they could do things without magic as it had provided wonderful entertainment for the rest of them. 

“Molly will help you pack up your things here while I meet with your father in the morning.”

“Can I come?” He asked, hope once more shining in his eyes at the thought of seeing Antonin.

“Not this time, baby.” She told him, hating to crush his hope as he finished off his plate of bananas, “But soon, I promise.” 

And regardless of the circumstances, it was yet another promise she intended to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some love. ❤️


	11. Somewhere Along In The Bitterness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here, the day we've all been waiting for. Adoption day! I really, really love Evie and Antonin's interactions and cannot wait until we can see them out of Azkaban. It's coming, I promise. I just won't say when 😉
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did, I'd have one of those giant Anthropology mirrors and I'd be living in the Quarter in an apartment full of French doors, high ceilings, wide windows, and a million balconies to spend my afternoons on. Gosh, I just love NoLa. 
> 
> Per usual, this is not beta'd.

After the eventful weekend she’d had, Evangeline was almost surprised when Monday morning rolled around. Though she was usually tempted to just slam the snooze button on the alarm clock and stay in bed, the excitement of the day was already getting to her, as she woke up before her alarm even went off and she knew she’d never be able to go back to sleep. So while Henry slept on, she grabbed a shower in the ensuite and got ready for the day. She tried to be quiet as she got ready for the day, donning some simple jeans and a white t-shirt. She threw her favorite leather jacket over her shoulders, a semi-recent acquisition from Sirius’ extensive collection, and slid into her sneakers before tucking the blanket higher up to Henry’s chin and picking up her newest article and settling into the space next to him, content to let the little boy sleep.

Henry, though, had other plans. Within five minutes of her sitting next to him, he was awake and crawling into her lap for a snuggle. 

“Morning, lovebug.” She whispered to the little boy, pressing a kiss to his cheek and turning back to her revisions as he settled against her shoulder.

“I’m hungry, Mummy.” He told her, his voice groggy with sleep.

She laughed, “I’d bet you are. How about we sneak down to the kitchen for an early breakfast?”

He nodded vigorously and popped his thumb in his mouth as she swept the papers to the side and carried him down the stairs to the dim kitchen only lit by the dying fire in the fireplace. She kept the little boy on her hip as she flicked on the light and went about fixing him a breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs. He stayed still and quiet, leaning on her shoulder with his thumb in his mouth as he watched her with tired eyes. 

“What kind of fruit do we want this morning?” She asked him as she set the eggs cooking and moved to the fridge.

“Strawberries.” 

She laughed at his decisiveness, earning giggles from the little boy as well, “Good choice.” 

“Can I help?” He asked, his blue eyes wide as he moved to look up at her.

She turned to meet his gaze, “Do you want to wash them for me?”

He nodded in excitement and she set him on the stool that they used when the kids wanted to be involved. She helped him turn on the water and couldn’t help but smile as he took each individual berry and washed it carefully, one by one. As they worked, she charmed the record player to play his favorite Queen album and laughed to herself as he danced atop the fenced-in stool while he worked. 

By the time they’d sat down to eat, Molly was just stepping through the floo for her morning shift at the house. Even though Evie had told her many times that she didn’t have to be here so early or make food for the kids, that there were house elves for that, Molly had insisted on doing so, claiming that they all deserved a home cooked meal. Evie had learned to just bite her tongue and accept the help.

“Good morning my dears.” The older woman greeted them with a warm smile, dropping an affectionate kiss on each of their heads.

“Morning Molly.” Evie replied with a smile of her own, watching as Henry reached up to give her a hug. 

“Morning Nana.” He greeted her, using the term of affection that he had coined for the woman without anyone’s suggestion, deciding that Molly was just as much his grandmother as Gigi Andy, who had decided she was much too young to be a grandma but melted just the same every time he called her such.

“You two are up early...” She mused as she set to work preparing breakfast for the rest of the house, donning her favoured apron and pulling out the ingredients for a feast of some sort.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Evie shrugged in reply.

“Doption Day!” Henry shouted excitedly, throwing his hands up in the air and splattering his eggs when he dropped his fork back down. 

“You don’t say!” Molly replied, indulging the little boy’s excitement as Evie laughed and moved to swipe up the spilled eggs. 

Molly continued conversing with the toddler as Evie began cleaning up her own dishes and assisted the older woman with fixing breakfast for the other two kids, chopping up some more fruit and tossing it into a bowl as they worked in tandem. She’d always loved cooking with Molly and she had spent many holidays and weekends over the years helping out in the kitchen. 

When Mipsy and Wispy, two of the houselves, brought Tommy and Beau down a little later, Evie helped get them settled with their respective breakfasts as Luna, Charlie, Andy, Harry, Neville & Narcissa arrived through the floo for their shifts. Though they really didn’t need all that many people there, they had each wanted to be there for the last day and Evie didn’t have it in her heart to turn them down. By the time Evie was getting ready to leave, the kitchen was as lively and crowded as the Hogwarts Great Hall at the beginning of term. 

Before she escaped into the floo, Evie lifted Henry into her arms and cuddled him close, “I’ll be back soon, love.”

“Then we’re going home?” He asked, looking up at her with an excited smile.

“Then we’re going home.” She assured him, pressing a kiss to his hair. Knowing that the next time she saw him, he’d legally be her son was enough to bring tears to her eyes, “Do you want me to tell your Daddy anything when I see him?”

He nodded, “I miss him.”

“Okay, baby. I’ll tell him.” She smiled down at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she continued, “You’ll be good for Nana and Gigi while I’m gone, okay? They’ll help you pack up your room while you wait.”

“Mmkay, Mummy.”

She gave him one last snuggle before darting off to the fireplace to floo home before heading back to the prison. Evie knew she was being ridiculous, but couldn’t help running quickly around her apartment and making sure everything was in place before grabbing the paperwork and heading to Azkaban.

She nodded in greeting to Matthew, the Auror who’s name she’d finally learned and made her way up to the top floor. Her eyes rested on Thorfinn’s old cell as she passed, strengthening her resolve in freeing Dolohov as she continued down the hall and up the last flight of stairs.

She knew she was here much earlier than she usually was, but she definitely wasn’t expecting the cell to be empty when she arrived. She quickly realized he was across the hall in the shower and let herself into the cell. She took a seat at the table and pulled her jacket tighter around her, absentmindedly wondering how he survived up here without being shielded from the elements. Even with her warming charm, the cold was getting to her. She moved from her chair and began walking the length of the room, the movement helping to keep her warm as she explored without really seeing. She made her way towards his bed, smiling to herself at the sight of the books stacked neatly beside the cot, with Henry’s drawing peeking out from behind the cover of one, and the heavy blanket she’d brought him folded neatly at the end. 

Absentmindedly, she picked up the book that sat propped open on the bed and pulled it up to her chest, reading over the bookmarked passage of the novel she’d always loved.

“You’re early.” Came the sudden voice of the man she was here to see as he stepped back into the cell, the gate slamming shut loudly behind him.

She shrugged, “Couldn’t sleep. Henry sends his love.”

He nodded once, the man she’d embraced on her last visit was nowhere to be seen as he moved further into the cell, nodding to the other seat at the table as he claimed the seat she’d vacated, “How is he?”

“Excited, but sad to see all his friends being adopted as well. It’s going to be a transition, moving from the manor filled with other children to my quiet little flat.” She told him, moving to the seat he offered and lowering herself into it before reaching for her tote and pulling out the folder with the papers, “Here, take your time reading them over.”

He didn’t even glance at the papers she laid in front of him, instead keeping his eyes trained on her, studying her intently with the kind of scrutiny she wished he’d apply to the papers in front of him, “I trust you.” His voice was low and deadly, not at all matching the level of confidence he apparently had in her. 

She cocked an eyebrow in his direction, not believing the words coming from his mouth, “I thought you didn’t trust anyone.”

“I’m allowing you to adopt my son.” He replied, leveling her with a glare that should have given him the power to turn mortals to stone, “I think that alone speaks to the trust I have in you.”

She leaned back in the hard wooden chair, crossing her arms over her chest and refusing to yield, “Well I still want you to read it.”

Silence reigned between them, neither budging from their stubborn positions as the stack of white papers sat heavily on the table in front of them. Almost an omen of all that was about to change. As if each of them realized what a turning point this would be in their relationship. 

He finally grumbled something under his breath and accepted the stack of papers, flipping through as his eyes sped across the pages. She waited quietly as he read, not quite knowing what he would think but hoping against all hope that he would keep his promise.

He looked up at her a few moments later, confusion lingering in his gaze as he eyed her warily, “You want me to retain custody?”

She stared back at him defiantly, almost daring him to argue with her over it, “I told you that I never wanted to take him away from you, I meant it.”

“No.”

“No?” She spat the question back at him, her arms tensing tighter around her torso, “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean that I don’t deserve any amount of custody.” He all but growled at her, the tension between them growing with each passing second, “I won’t sign this if you don’t have full custody.”

She cocked her head in silent challenge, refusing to let her anxiety show as she fought to get through to him, “And I won’t sign it if I do.”

His voice turned soft, recognizing everything she was staking on the words she was speaking, “Evie…”

She met his gaze, dropping her arms into her lap, “I’m serious, Antonin.” Tears slipped down her cheek as she spoke once more, “You know how much I love Henry. You know how long I’ve been fighting for this. I’m not going to let you throw away your connection to your son.” She reached hesitantly across the table, pressing her fingers gently into the palm of his hand, “I’m not going to let you sever your family bond. He’s yours. He’ll _ always _ be yours.”

“No, Evangeline.” Came his broken insistence, “I’m not agreeing to this. I’ve got a life in prison to look forward to, it won’t make a difference if I’m his father or not.”

She held her head high, refusing to back down, as she continued to hold his gaze, “Then sign anyways.”

“No.” Came the word once more, as he kicked back from the table and stood to his feet, standing tall above her with a menacing glare before crossing his cell to stare out one of the slats to stare out at the rocky shore far below.

She stood slowly from her chair, crossing the room carefully until she was directly behind him. She moved her hands to wrap around his trim waist, pressing her nose into the hollow between his shoulderblades, her voice thick with emotion as she whispered against the whistle of the wind, “Do you know how much it would break him to know that you’re trying to give up all of your rights to him?”

“He’ll survive.” His voice was raw as he stood there, his body refusing to betray the heartbreak she knew was shining in his eyes.

“He’s survived enough, Antonin” Her own voice was soft as she spoke, trying to every emotion that was bursting in her chest as her tears leaked a trail of wetness down the thin material of his back, tracing the line of his spinal cord, “He deserves a life filled with love and happiness and two fucking parents, whether his father is present or not.”

“Then go marry some areshole and call it a day.” He growled over his shoulder, his own hands traveling to clutch dangerously at her wrists currently locked around him. It was like he didn’t know if he wanted to hold her closer or push her away.

“No.” She whispered into the curve of his shoulder, turning to press her cheek against his back, her breath coming in puffs against the freezing air of the cell, “You’re his father. You’ll  _ always _ be his father.”

His shoulders tensed beneath her, his voice low and quiet as he spoke into the wind, “He deserves a life not linked to me.”

“Antonin…”

“Do not push me on this Evangeline.” He whipped around to face her, jarring her backwards and all but pushing her into the table, cold fury burning in his eyes, “I’m doing what’s best for you. For _ both _ of you.”

“You do not run my life Antonin.” She shouted at him, pushing up off the table and returning to face him, her finger pressing dangerously into the center of his chest as she spoke, “And if it were up to you, apparently you’d be giving up all rights to have a say in Henry’s either.”

“This is my decision.” He yelled back at her, the sound of his deep voice leaving the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention, as if they were waiting to be struck by the electricity pulsing between them. “He doesn’t need me anymore.” He pushed forward, stepping fully into her space and forcing her back towards the table, the tops of her thighs slamming into it with a brutal thud as she stepped quickly away from him. 

“Well tough shit.” She told him, gathering her resolve once more as she reached behind her and gathered up the papers still resting on the table, slamming them up against his chest, “Because you’re what he got and you’re who he loves.”

His eyes flashed with an intensity that both thrilled and terrified her as he cursed her, “ _ Vy chertovski suka. _ ”

“I don’t need to understand Russian to know what you just called me, you stubborn bastard.” She growled back at him, slamming the papers against his chest once more, her own fury matching the fire dancing in his blue eyes, “Now quit acting like a bloody martyr and sign the fucking papers.”

“Don’t make me put you over my knee.” 

His voice sent involuntary shivers down her back as she stared back at him issuing her own challenge, “Don’t make me smack you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, calling her on the bluff he obviously expected it to be, “You wouldn’t.”

“Sign the fucking papers, then.” She spat at him, jutting her chin out in challenge as he stared down at her, “Unless you’ve suddenly decided I’m not good enough.”

He continued studying her as his gaze grew softer, almost apologetic as the minutes ticked on. Neither of them moved as they stood in front of each other, the space almost non-existent between them. It was he who caved first, wrenching the papers from her hands with another low growl.

“ _ Ty boleye chem khorosh, kotenok. _ ” He whispered out brushing a wayward blonde strand from her cheek before reaching behind her for the pen. He then signed his name with a quick scratch of the pen, his shoulder pressed heavily into her side as his muscles flexed with each turn of the page. She kept her eyes on the wall ahead of her as he rose slowly once more to face her, ignoring the way his shoulder brushed against her own. He handed off the pen and papers to her, watching his hand steadying on her hip as she turned to sign it herself, being careful to keep their hips from colliding as she bent to do so. She quickly flipped through the pages and signed her own name, and as soon as she’d dotted the “i” over her last name a whoosh of golden magic surrounded them both, binding her to Henry in name and blood. Making him biologically hers in the way most wizarding adoptions did. She stood swiftly, turning to face the man behind her as the magic enveloped the both of them.

She felt Antonin’s eyes on her as tears spilled over and down her cheeks, the heady magic overwhelming each and everyone of her senses as the glow continued to swirl around them, highlighting each of his features in warm light and lifting a gutteral sob from her chest as it settled between them. They were silent as it slowly faded, neither of them daring to speak over the explosion of magic that had just occurred. It wasn’t until it had dissipated to near completion that she launched herself fully into his arms as the sobs of joy and relief took over, barely registering the feeling of him sinking down into the chair next to them, pulling her down with him, all but inviting her to curl up in his lap.

“Thank you.” She whispered, entranced by the faint glow still surrounding the both of them and the feeling of his arms tight around her. 

Neither of them spoke for a long while after that, content to just sit there together, high above the freezing roar of the sea, locked together in the moment that was bound to change everything. Tears continued to slip down her cheeks as Antonin pressed his lips into the line of her hair, his warm breath a reminder of the life that flowed through his veins, the life he was forced to live out in the darkness of solidarity.

“Take care of our son, Evangeline.” He breathed against her hair a long while later, locking his arms tighter around her as . 

“I will.” She promised him, sinking deeper into his embrace and counting the even beats that came from his chest, soothing her worries further despite the circumstances.

“How is it that you always end up here?” He grumbled a moment later, though both of them knew he loved the feeling of her in his arms just as much as she liked being there. It was almost as if it were meant to be, the feeling of completeness that filled her bones everytime he was near. She dared to wonder if he felt it too.

“Blame Henry.” She breathed out, her voice sounding small against the war of the wind through the cell, “He’s the one who said we both give the best hugs.”

Neither of them spoke as they stayed sitting there curled up in each other. Neither of them wanting to risk putting the moment to an end with the reality words were bound to bring. 

“Are you being careful?” He asked finally, running his fingers slowly up her spine, sending shivers once more through her body with every brush against the ridges of bone beneath her skin.

“Yes.” She whispered out, careful to keep her voice steady as his fingers pressed more assuredly into the small of her back, as if he was trying to assure himself of her presence before him.

“Do you promise?”

She sat up to face him, catching the carefully-guarded worry in his own eyes, “Yes, Antonin. I promise I’m being careful.” 

“You need to strengthen your wards.” He refused to yield, leveling her with a firm glare that made it obvious that he expected her to argue, whether he’d admit to it or not.

“I already have.” 

“Do it again.” His reply was sharp, a near order as he continued to brush his fingers along the length of her back, catching the material of her shirt against ridges of her rib cage as he went, the hem lifting ever so little to expose the gooseflesh prickled across her skin. 

“Bill helped me last weekend, we’ll be fine.” She assured him, studying him closely as he blatantly held her own, so many words standing unspoken between them.

He heaved a breath, his chest rising against her chin as he spoke once more, “The Weasley cursebreaker?”

She nodded, “That’s the one.”

He sighed once more, “I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone.” She shot back at him, delighting in the way the corners of his mouth turned up at the sound of it. 

He held her gaze, vulnerability shining within them, “I trust you.”

She ducked her head under his intense eyes, laying her head back on his shoulder, the strands of wet hair tickling her cheek as she spoke, “Then trust me, we’re perfectly safe.”

“I still don’t like it.”

It was her turn to sigh, as she nuzzled in closer, the skin of his throat tensing beneath the feel of her breath against it, “Well until I get you out of here you’re just going to have to suck it up.” 

“We both know that’s never going to happen.” It was meant as a statement of truth, but Evie couldn’t help but take it as a challenge as they continued to stay wrapped up together in the dim light of the cell. 

She tilted slightly, her nose brushing against the ridge of his jaw as she whispered the words neither of them had dared to speak, “We both know you could break out of here at any moment, if you truly wanted to.”

They both knew it was the truth, even without a wand the man was one of the most talented wizards she’d ever known and had been the greatest cursebreaker history had to offer. There were no chains that could hold him back, no binds that could keep him prisoner. He was here of his own volition, of his own decision. There was nothing truly keeping him trapped in the prison cell he called home, nothing but ghosts and guilt. 

He didn’t reply to her admittance, just continued holding her close and running his fingers up and down her back, between the thick leather of her jacket and the thin cotton of her shirt. She didn’t know how to process the hint of wanting that settled into her gut with each pass, hating herself for the growing attraction she felt for the man.

“You should be going.” He whispered finally, each of them hating the words that came from his lips

She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him, wondering once more how a man kept in the deepest pits of hell could ever smell like heaven itself. “I’ll be back.” She whispered.

He shook his head, the feeling of it jarring her slightly against him, as his damp hair tickled at her own skin, “No you won’t. There is no reason for you to keep returning.”

“I don’t care.”

“Evie - ” Her name was a broken plea on his lips, a warning of the danger that haunted the both of them. 

“Just… don’t fight me on this, please?” She pleaded with him, cracked emotion filling her own voice, “I - I need to know that you’re okay.”

“And I need  _ you _ to be okay,” He growled lowly back at her, “visiting me puts you both at risk.”

“I’m being careful, Antonin.” She insisted, moving to stare up into the blue eyes that were so similar to her sons. The eyes that once filled her nightmares. The eyes that now haunted her favourite dreams. 

He held her pleading gaze with his own, “I know you are,  _ Dorogoy _ , but -”

“Then let me do this.” She insisted, once more refusing to yield to the man whose life had always been intertwined with her own. Like two ships circling each other in the dark, searching for a port to go home to.

He sighed, but didn’t argue further. Nor did he make any moves to extract her from his arms, if anything he pulled her closer. But after several moments they both knew she had to go, that Henry would be waiting. It was time. 

And as the tears slipped down her cheeks when she exited the cage, she knew that neither of them believed the lie she was telling herself. 

_ They weren’t just tears of joy.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vy chertovski suka. - You fucking bitch.
> 
> Ty boleye chem khorosh, kotenok. - You’re more than good enough, kitten.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thanks for all the love and support you guys! I really was not expecting anyone to read this pic, its such an unusual and unpopular pairing that I was just kind of writing it solely because I wanted to. But your outpouring of love has really just taken me by surpise and I am so beyond grateful for each and every one of you that are here reading it. So once more, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for every moment of unexpected joy you've brought me with your comments, kudos, subscriptions, & bookmarks. Even those of you that are just here reading it have my heart. 
> 
> So, stay safe out there and remember how far a little love and kindness can go.
> 
> I love you all. Forever and always.
> 
> XO Alison


	12. I Was Too Young To Know You Were The One To Find

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And We're BACKKKKK!
> 
> I'm so so so so sorry that this has taken so long to get out to you guys! While this chapter was mostly written there was still a scene at the end that needed to be finished and these past few weeks have been an absolute nightmare. While everything in my family is now okay, the rest of my life has effectively blown up. I've spent every waking moment dealing with lawyers and insurance and other bullshit related to my injury and impending surgery. (WORKERS COMP IS THE FUCKING WORST). And though I've definitely wanted to write, they upped my pain meds and I legitimately cannot form a coherent thought at the moment so it's been a struggle to get everything down onto paper. 
> 
> But alas! We have prevailed!
> 
> *Insert the usual disclaimers with an allusion to NOT being a famous writer here*
> 
> **THIS IS NOT EDITED BY SOMEONE OF SOUND BODY OR MIND**

Thorfinn awoke in a cold sweat early that Monday morning, breathing hard and almost shaking with terror. It wasn’t the first time he’d had nightmares involving his time in the Dark Lord’s service, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last, but this time had been different. He looked over at Charlie next to him, sleeping curled up next to him, the one thing that quieted his racing mind. Suddenly, his biggest fear wasn’t being found out as a spy or his friends living out their days not knowing his true allegiance. It was none of this being real. It was waking up back in his cold damp cell, with only other Death Eaters for company.

He glanced once more at Charlie before climbing out of the bed, how he wished he could just tell him how he felt, that they could just move past the awkward dancing around each other and be what they both knew they were meant to be. Even with how much he loved Dora and Evie, and he loved them more than words could even express, Charlie had always been different. He’d been his best friend for longer than either of them could even remember and Thorfinn knew he’d been in love with him for just as long. 

He made his way through Charlie’s flat, towards the kitchen, as he thought back over every moment he could have just worked up the nerve and kissed the man. He reached for the bottle of liquor stashed above the fridge and poured himself a glass, needing something to numb the pain and banish the ghosts of yesterday, before claiming a seat at the kitchen table and drinking in silence.

_ How much time had they wasted hiding their true feelings? _

Even now, they were living in the same apartment, hell, they were sleeping in the same bed, but it was like both of them were too scared to make the first move. Thorfinn sipped slowly on the dark liquid, reveling in the burn as it slipped down his throat. 

“Drinking without me?” Charlie’s voice came from the doorway behind him, causing Thorfinn to pivot quickly to face him, “Care to share?”

Thorfinn pointed his glass in the direction of the cabinet where he now knew the cups resided, silently asking Charlie to join him. Charlie obliged, pouring himself his own glass and joining him in the spot across from Thorfinn’s own seat. Their knees brushed beneath the small table, but neither made any move to push the other away as they drank in silence.

“You’re quieter.” Charlie said finally.

“I didn’t have many people to talk to.”

“You have me.” And almost as an afterthought, “And Evie and Dora.”

Thorfinn groaned, leaning back in his chair with a thud, “What are we doing here, Charlie?”

He sighed, needing no further explanation, “I don’t know. It’s like we're standing at the precipice terrified of making the jump.”

“I want to jump with you.” “But I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

“You’ll never lose me, Thor.”

“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that life is fleeting.”

“But it’s also worth  _ living _ .”

He took a deep breath, deciding to just come out with it, there was no point to dancing around it anymore, “I love you, Charlie, I think I always have.”

Charlie looked up at him, tears in his eyes as he wrestled with his own emotions, “I love you too, Thorfinn. More than anything.”

It was like a weight had been suddenly lifted from their shoulders and they could finally breathe normally again. Their laughter started slowly at first, a chuckle at first, before growing into full belly aching hysteria as Thorfinn crashed to the floor with Charlie falling after him, both of them clutching at their sides with fits of laughter. Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that, laughing on the floor as all of the tension that had been hanging over their heads for so long dissipated with those three simple words. As the laughter died away they pulled themselves off the floor and leaned against the kitchen cabinets behind them, side by side.

“That wasn’t so hard.” Charlie stated with a smile, turning to face him.

“Why did we wait this long?” Thorfinn asked, shaking his head in disbelief as they held each other’s gaze.

“I have no fucking idea” Charlie offered with a shake of his own head, earning a chuckle from Thorfinn as he stared back at him, both of them moving slowly closer as they spoke.

“You, Charlie Weasley, need to watch your mouth.” Thorfinn teased him, a throwback to their school days as the air between them shifted and the tension returned. The space between them crackled with magic and energy as Charlie’s eyes dropped to his lips, and then his mouth was on his own. He was kissing Charlie Weasley, each of them tearing at their pajamas and fighting for control as fingers threaded through hair and hands dragged bodies closer. 

With clashing teeth and the roving tongues they came together on the kitchen floor of the flat, both of them cursing their past selves for not acting sooner and rejoicing for finally pursuing the one thing they wanted more than life itself. They fell apart in each other’s arms, their partner’s name on their lips, as they each shouted their climaxes into the dead of night. Finally, everything was right in the world. 

They stayed on the kitchen floor long after they’d finished, leaned back up against the cabinets and completely out of breath. It wasn’t long before Thorfinn reached for the half empty bottle of whiskey still sitting on the kitchen table and took a long swig from the bottle before offering it to Charlie.

“I better not be fucking dreaming.” Charlie groaned, voicing the very thought in Thorfinn’s own mind, before he accepted the bottle and took a drink of his own, “I need a cigarette.”

“Merlin, I’ve missed those.” Thorfinn replied, remembering their late night rendezvous in the hidden corner of one of the courtyards of Hogwarts.

“Come on.” Charlie nudged him with his shoulder before reaching for his pajama pants and heading for the double doors leading out to his balcony. Thorfinn trailed after him, donning his own sweatpants and accepting the offered cigarette. 

They stood side by side on the balcony, leaning against the railing with cigarettes in hand as the sun rose over the horizon, lighting the world around them in a rosy glow.

“We’re idiots, aren’t we?” Thorfinn asked a while later, blowing out a column of smoke into the morning air.

“Most definitely.” 

***

The next time Thorfinn awoke it was to the floo signal and Dora banging on the bedroom door and generally raising hell in the hallway before letting herself in and tearing open the curtains. Charlie had left hours before, heading into work not long after the sun raised fully in the sky and sending Thorfinn back to bed. 

“Wake up sleepy head!” She greeted him joyfully, easily deflecting the pillow he chucked at her, “Is that any way to treat the best friend who’s buying you lunch?”

“Go away, Dora.” He grumbled, pulling the other pillow up over his head.

“Still not a morning, person are you?” She asked, plopping on the bed next to him and making an absolute nuciansse of herself as she began pulling the covers away from him and stealing his pillows.

“I could kill you a million different ways and no one would ever know.”

“Good thing you love me then.”

“That’s debatable.”

“I brought Teddy.”

_ Fuck her. Fuck her and her fucking manipulation tactics. _

He rose from his pillow, cracking one eye to glare at her, “Know that I hate you so much right now.”

“I’m fully prepared to accept the brunt of your hatred.” She snorted in laughter, “That’s why I also brought coffee.”

She summoned the travel mug and handed it over.

He pointed an accusatory finger at her, “You are a menace.” 

“Thank you very much for noticing. Now, lunch?”

“Where’s Teddy?”

“In his stroller in the kitchen.” She replied with a shrug moving to lay out on the bed right next to him, effectively taking up every ounce of space the bed had to offer as she pressed her bare heels into his lower back, “He should be waking up any minute and then I’ve got to feed him so you’ve got approximately twenty minutes to shower and get ready.”

Thorfinn groaned but climbed out of bed just as a high pitched wail sounded from the direction of the kitchen, “Right on schedule then.” He teased her before lumbering towards the bathroom, clutching his head all the way.

“There's a hangover potion in the medicine cabinet.” She called after him and for once he was grateful to her early morning intrusion.

Not too much later, they were both donning their coats and stepping out into Wizarding London, the brisk day helping to wake Thorfinn up further as they made their way towards the Leaky Cauldron. Thorfinn tried to pretend that he didn’t notice the stares and the whispers as they passed, focusing more on absorbing every bit of conversation Dora threw at him, hearing all she had to say about pregnancy and childbirth and learning more than he ever wanted to know from the woman before they finally settled into a booth in the restaurant. 

“You have no boundaries.” He told her after they ordered.

She flashed a mischievous smile his way as she pulled Teddy from his carrier and up into her lap, handing him a teether to chew on, “You used to love that about me.”

“I still do.” He agreed with a smile of his own, but leveled her with as serious of a look as he could muster before he continued on, “But I don’t think i can ever have sex again after hearing all of that.”

She rolled her eyes, “Oh please, it’s not like you and Charlie will even have to worry about _ that  _ part of it, if you even decide to go the whole biological route.” 

He held an accusatory finger out towards her, “You are a menace.” He told her, trying to hide the quirk of his lips as Teddy grabbed onto it with his own little fist, destroying any ounce of credibility to his accusation as the mini-menace began gnawing on the offending appendage in earnest.

“You still love me.” She shrugged with a knowing smile, refusing to rescue him from the steel grip of her child.

He rolled his eyes, “Do I?” 

Sh nodded with absolute assurance of the fact, finally relenting to give Teddy a teething biscuit to gnaw on instead of his fingers, “Yep, we’re total besties.”

He yanked his hand back the moment it was free, rubbing at it like it’d been ravaged by a wild animal, “I thought Evie was your bestie?”

Dora just laughed, “You know as well as anyone that I have three best friends, you, Charlie, and Evie.” 

“But you love me most.” He challenged her with a teasing grin as she ducked to press kisses along the top of Teddy’s little head as he munched happily on the treat.

Her head snapped back up to meet his gaze, “I didn’t say that.”

He feigned heartbreak, “You love Evie more than me?”

She shook her head in exasperation, though she was still smiling at his antics, “Jesus, Rowle.”

“Oof, switching to last names  _ and  _ muggle terms, must have struck a chord.” He teased, “You sure you don’t have a favorite.”

“Teddy.” She decided with the kind of ridiculous confidence only she could possess, “Teddy is my favorite.”

He leveled her with a knowing look, holding back the grin that threatened the break through, “That’s cheating.”

She held his gaze, “Tough shit.”

They settled into easy conversation, bantering back and forth about everything under the sun as they waited for their food. It was as if no time had passed and they were still at Hogwarts with their easy camaraderie as they teased and talked.

“Hey,” She reached across the table for his hand, her expression growing serious, “I love you. You’re my brother, Thor. I know it’s easy to goof off and fall back into the old habits of our friendship, but I also know that you’ve been through more in the past six years than any of us. I’m here if you wanna talk about it, or yell at someone, or hell, even spar a bit.” she paused, holding his gaze, “I’m also here if you need to fall apart, Thor.” 

He swallowed heavily before quirking a small smile her way, “Thanks Dora.”

Thankfully, the food arrived seconds later and shifted the conversation away from the million different things that stood between them as they tucked into the meal and twisted this way and that trying to keep Teddy’s hands out of their hot food and joking once more like they’d always done.

It wasn’t until after they’d paid and stepped up to leave the restaurant that the joyful mood finally broke. A man in his fifties stepped up to their table, flanked by two more men dressed in worn wizarding robes, sneering down at them as they turned to face him.

“Is there something we can do for you, sir?” Dora asked, moving to stand and jutting her chin out in such a way that almost dared him to fuck with her. She shifted Teddy higher on her hip as Thorfinn stood up next to her, not missing the visible swallow the men made as his own imposing size to her right.

“Death Eaters aren’t welcome here.” He spat at them.

Dora rolled her eyes, sarcasm all but dripping from her voice as she faced him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you owned the Leaky Mr. -”

“Edward Jacobson.” The man replied with seemingly unending confidence, though his two mates looked ready to cut and run at the obvious power imbalance between the two groups.

“Well Mr. Jacobson, since i know for a fact that you don’t own this fine dining establishment.” Dora began, unbothered by the aggressive man in front of her, “And since i also know that Mr. Rowle has been declared a national hero with an order of the first merlin and a pardon given by the minister himself, I must assume that you must mean myself.”

“You know full well-”

She cut him off, continuing on with her own confident musings, “But let’s be honest here, even if i were a Death Eater - Which i’m very obviously not, given my association with such an esteemed hero as the one next to me - do you really think it wise to corner me in a restaurant with two of your little buddies and try to intimidate me into leaving?” She sent him a feral smile, but there was nothing joyous about it, instead it looked as if she was a predator baring her fangs in the face of her prey, “I feel like I should hex your bollocks off just to prove my point.” She paused to contemplate it, turning back to Thorfinn with a conspiratorial wink, “I don’t know, should I hex him Thor?”

Thorfinn pretended to be shocked by her declaration, falling into the same old pattern they’d used to get out of trouble a million times before, as he feigned an attempt to stick up for the man before them, “I mean, I doubt the idiot even realized the gravity of his mistake, who corners a death eater without a death wish themselves?” He laughed at the last bit, an uncomfortable sound that raised the tension in the room just a little bit more.

The man lunged towards him, yanking his wand from his pocket and shoving it under Thorfinn’s nose, “You gotta death wish, Murderer?!”

He could feel his own fury rising as he stared down at the man stupid enough to do such a thing, “You -”

Before he could even finish the threat Dora was in front of him, shoving Teddy into his arms and raising her own wand towards the man, her small frame all but cracking with barely-restrained magic, “Listen here, arsehole.” She growled at the man, “You have two options, you can either turn around and walk away right now or you can wave that wand a little more and i will hex your balls off and cart you off to Azkaban myself for harassment and discrimination, not to mention attempted assault. You’ve got three seconds to decide.”

The man glared at her, his temper visibly rising as she lifted an eyebrow in a quiet challenge, “You little -”

“One.” She cut him off with the count.

“- BITCH”

“Two. Last chance, Jacobson.” Her voice was eerily calm in comparison to the fuming madman’s, and though Thorfinn knew that Dora didn’t like hurting people, she wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever it took to protect what was her’s.

“IF YOU THINK I”M GOING TO JUST LET THIS MONSTER GET AWAY WITH MURDER!” He sputtered with rage, his face turning purple with his anger as he drew back his wand to strike, “AVADA -”

Thorfinn flinched waiting for the impact of the spell but instead was greeted with a high pitched howl of agony as the man keeled over in pain and dropped to the floor with his hands clutching at his crotch.

Dora was seething as she stood over the man, “I  _ warned _ you.” She spat at him before leaning to address Hannah Abbott behind the bar, “I’m assuming you’ve already called the aurors?”

Dora’s fellow housemate nodded with a subtle glimmer of wicked pride in her eyes, “They’re already on their way.” 

Thorfinn couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips, the absurdity of the entire ordeal catching up on him. Leave it to the hufflepuffs to follow through on a threat to hex someone’s genitals off. 

_ The loyal little psychos. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know that the Thorfinn x Charlie scene wasn't written like a true *smut* scene with all the glorious details and I wanted to have a chance to explain why. I am wholly supportive of the LGBTQ community and think that love is love. Period. End of sentence. But being a straight woman myself, I don't feel like I have the knowledge or experience to be able to truly write a love scene between two men with all of the physiology and specifics and do it justice. I don't want to in any way fetishize it or write it in some unrealistic way, because I feel like that would be doing a disservice to everyone who is taking the time to read this story. I would totally be open to partnering with someone who has the confidence and knowledge to write those scenes for future, and I assure you that not all of the scenes will look like this. I simply just want to be able to do right by all of you and the LGBTQ community in general and this scene is a reflection of that for me. 
> 
> Moving on from that, my surgery is currently scheduled for June 4th and I'm supposed to be on bed rest for about four months after that, so I'm hoping that I will have ample opportunity and inspiration to write. However, pain meds affect me in terribly ridiculous ways and I can't make any promises with it. I will say that I have written twenty-three chapters for this story, unlike my other two that I'm really struggling to put pen to paper on, and hope to resume our normal schedule with those (though they still have to be edited and such). I hope you'll continue to stick around throughout the next few months and I hope you can understand why I'm having to take some time off from truly writing like I have been. I am so beyond grateful for the love and support you have all given me as a new fan fiction writer and I cannot wait until my life quiets down a bit more so that I can get back to writing like I love to do. You all have my heart and I hope and pray that you're staying safe out there. 
> 
> All my love, 
> 
> Alison.
> 
> P.S. - Yes. That is a Twilight reference. And yes, I hate it too. (Though, tbh, my middle school self devoured those books and I definitely saw all the movies on opening night... it's a very love/hate relationship.) Also, KRISTEN STEWART IS A GREAT ACTOR! BELLA SWAN IS JUST AN ABOMINABLE CHARACTER who was the most poorly written heroine to ever come from a work of fiction. Literally watch ANYTHING ELSE with K.Stew in it and you'll fall in love. (TBH, she and Ruby Rose are the only women I would ever give up men for. Though now that I think about it I think Ruby Rose identifies as gender fluid? So let's say they're the only people I'd give up men for. There, that's better.) Okay, end rant. 
> 
> P.P.S. - I love you guys ❤️


	13. But As Long As There Are Stars Above You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back again!
> 
> This chapter is a little fluff-heavy, but I love it all the same! ❤️❤️
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did, I'd be living in an apartment in the Quarter with high ceilings and French doors and airy sheer curtains that float through the breeze like something out of a fairy tale. And per usual, this is not beta'd and barely edited.

Henry was waiting for her as she stepped through the floo, jumping down from Andy’s lap and rushing into her arms the moment she appeared, “I saw magic mummy.” He told her with a wide smile as she dropped to the floor and cuddled him close. “Gigi said its cause of the ‘doption. Why’s the light gold?” 

“The light was gold because it was binding us together, you, me and your dad.” She explained, sharing a glance with a tearful Andromeda, “It means we’re a family now.”

“You my mummy mummy now?” He asked, looking at her with hopeful eyes.

“Yes, baby.” she whispered back to him with a slight laugh, nuzzling her nose with her own as his smile grew wider, “I’m your Mummy Mummy now.” 

“We get to go home?”

She nodded, beyond thankful for the little boy’s excitement as she stood up, carrying him with her as she collected the little suitcase from Andy and watched as her surrogate mother handed her son his favorite teddy and blanket, “Are you ready to go?”

He snuggled closer with a yawn and leaned his head on her shoulder, tucking the teddy into the crook of his arm and voicing his agreement, “Let’s go, Mummy.”

“I think the bonding magic wore him out a bit.” Andy admitted, brushing her fingers across Henry’s forehead after handing him his toy.

“I think we’ll both probably need a good nap today.” She agreed, as Henry’s eyes fluttered sleepily, “We’ll see you Thursday, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She promised, waving them off, “Now take that boy home, he looks like he’s about to fall asleep right here.”

“Say bye-bye to Gigi.” Evie whispered to him as they moved towards the floo, delighted to watch him perk up a bit and wave over her shoulder before they climbed through the floo and landed at home.

“We here, Mummy?” He asked, turning to look out over her living room. 

“Yep.” She assured him, setting the suitcase on the armchair and carrying him further into the room, “Welcome home, love.” 

He took it in slowly, not moving from his spot in her arms as she showed him around the main living area, pointing out the telly, the toy box, and the Christmas tree in the corner. 

He seemed absolutely fascinated but still didn’t ask to get down as she carried him through the room and moved towards the kitchen, she showed him where his new sippy cups were and let him pick one out for lunchtime for when they finished the tour before showing him the hallway with the bathroom and her room.

“That’s a big bed.” He commented with wide eyes, and it was everything she could do not to laugh at his declaration.

“Yes it is, baby.” She carried him back through into the hallway and opened the door leading to his own room, holding her breath as she watched his reaction. She’d spent the last couple weeks putting it together for him and wanted more than anything for him to like it, “And this is your room. She stepped fully into the room and watched as his eyes went wide and he took it all in.

“Mine?” He asked looking back to her with disbelief.

“Yours.” She assured him, unable to hide her own excitement as he wiggled to get down and began making his way around the room pointing out everything he could see and began naming the zoo of stuffed animals on the bed. 

He began dancing gleefully around the room, picking up toys and hugging them close as she watched from the doorway with tears in her eyes, “My stars!” he exclaimed with absolute joy as he noticed the glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling. He started jumping up and down as if he could touch them and Evie felt the tears slip down her cheeks.   
  


She made her way over to him, folding herself onto the floor next to him as he started handing her different toys and things to hold chattering away in excitement, “Do you like it, Henry?”

“I _ love _ it, Mumma.” He assured her with a goofy grin before throwing himself into her arms and hugging her tight. 

“I’m so glad.” She told him, pressing a kiss to his temple before pulling away to face him, “Now how about some lunch?”

“Grilled cheese, please.” He decided with adorable authority, “And strawberries.”

“We can’t forget about the strawberries.” She assured him, nuzzling his nose as he laughed.

Suddenly his demeanor changed, and he burst into tears, taking her by surprise as he latched onto her neck once more and buried his head in her shoulder.

She held him close, knowing he was always quick to shift emotions when he didn’t understand something, and rocked him back and forth shushing him softly as he cried, “Henry, baby, what’s going on?” She asked him gently, rubbing soothing circles up and down his back. She knew he was probably just a little overwhelmed from the day and needed some reassurance, but she couldn’t hide her worry.

“Two beds, mummy!” He cried into her neck, breaking her heart as she realized his pain. He’d always been terrified of sleeping alone and now on the day she finally brought him home he thought that it was going to stop, that he was going to be forced back into his own room.

“Oh no, baby.” She whispered to him in hushed reassurance, “Nothing’s going to change, I promise. You can still sleep with me, okay? The bed is just in case you want to try it sometime.”

He looked up at her with worried eyes, “Promise?” He asked in the smallest voice possible.

“I pinky swear.” She swore to him, extending her pinky out for him to lock with his own. He took it with slight hesitance before settling back against her chest. “I think you’ve had a very big day, little love. How about we do some lunch and then a nice big nap?”

He nodded against her shoulder and she stood to carry him to the kitchen, keeping him on her hip as she fixed them each a grilled cheese and sliced up some strawberries. She let him remain in her lap as they ate, settling onto the couch for the meal and watching as his eyes continued to droop over his plate. Halfway through his meal, it was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to function anymore so she magiced the plates away to be washed and summoned his teddy bear and blanket, shifting so he could curl up next to her before dimming the lights and watching as his eyes drifted fully shut. 

The emotions of the day soon reached her too as she succumbed to sleep in the living room of their home with her son curled up with her. For the first time in what felt like ages, she felt perfectly content. 

***

The next few days passed with a simple routine, trying to keep the same schedule he had at the estate, and before Evie even knew it, it was Christmas Eve. The two of them spent the morning baking cookies in the apartment before heading out to do some last minute shopping in Diagon. 

Henry wanted to be carried for the most part, absolutely refusing to go in the stroller she’d gotten, as they made their way through the stores and she picked up some last minute gifts. They ran into several people they knew as they shopped, a few of them stopping to congratulate her on the adoption and wish them both a Happy Christmas before bustling on their way, the pressure of last minute shopping getting to everyone as they fought for gifts and placated screaming children with candy bars. 

“Mumma?” Henry asked as they finished checking out at one of the new bookstores where he’d picked out a set of books to give to Teddy and another couple for Felicity. 

“Yeah love?” She asked as she shrunk the purchases into the handbag she carried with her.

“Can we get Daddy a present too?”

She smiled at his thoughtfulness, “Of course, love. What would you like to get him?”

“Crayons.” He told her matter of factly, prompting a smile to tug at her lips.

“Why crayons?” She asked him as they exited the store, pulling up the hood of his coat and tucking his little scarf higher on his neck.

“Cause Daddy makes pretty art like me.”

“Daddy likes drawing?” She asked him, surprised by the information.

“Lots and lots.” 

“Then how about we get him some grown up crayons.” She suggested, veering towards the arts and craft store that she knew Luna often frequented.

He cocked his head in confusion, “What are grown up crayons?”

“Oil pastels,” she told him with a smile, “They’re like crayons but you can do more with them.”

“Can I have oil patels?”

“I’ve got some at home we can try sometime, but I don’t think you’ll like them.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re much harder to use.” “And if you’re not really, really careful, they can make a big mess.”

“Miss Luna says art is more fun with a mess.” He countered, with a scrunched eyebrows as they stepped into the small storefront.

She laughed, “And she is right. How about this,” She was prepared to bargain as she made a beeline for the oil pastels and gathered them up along with a sketchbook and some charcoal pencils, “After your nap, I’ll pull out my oil pastels and you can try them before bathtime.”

He scrunched up his nose at that, “I don’t like baths.”

“I know, bud. But we’ve got to get all clean for dinner at Nana’s tonight.”

That perked him right up and he nodded in begrudging agreement, “I still don’t like baths.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at that, making her way through the store as an idea struck her and she pulled a pack of bath paints from the shelf and brought their choosings to the counter to pay. There was nothing like a little bribery to talk a toddler into bathtime.

***

The bath paints, as it turned out, were an absolute hit. So much so that Henry almost didn’t want to leave the bathtub. The oil pastels, however, he hated. After just a few moments of colouring with them, he had given up and switched back to his favored crayons, claiming the colours weren’t staying where he put them and that they were being ‘naughty’. And after a long nap in anticipation of Christmas Eve at the Burrow, the little family made their way through the floo. 

Molly & Andy snatched the little boy up the moment they arrived, claiming they needed his assistance in the kitchen and whisking him off to, no doubt, indulge in sweets before dinner. Evie pretended she wasn’t one hundred percent aware of the rogue grandmas and accepted a drink from Sirius with a smile, greeting the many people gathered in the living room of The Burrow. Most everyone had already arrived, scattered throughout the house and garden and catching up with each other over drinks and the sound of Molly’s favoured Christmas albums.

Dora and Fleur were curled up on one of the couches with mugs of cocoa, giggling like school girls as they whispered back and forth conspiratorially, with Teddy sleeping peacefully in his mother’s arms, blissfully unaware of the party raging on around him. Alastor and Arthur were having their own discussion by the fire, each of them sitting in their own worn armchairs as they watched over the family surrounding them. Fred and George were stringing up mistletoe over every doorway, as they were known to do every holiday, as Daphne and Angelina just rolled their eyes affectionately, Harry and Ron were in the midst of a wizarding chess game by the window, each of them pointedly ignoring Sirius’ not-so-helpful hints from his spot lounging in the nearby chair. 

While also fighting to ignore Theo and Blaise’s incessant ribbing and commentary from the couch. Draco sat nearby laughing at his best friends’ antics and sneaking glances at Hermione who was in an intense discussion with Remus and Percy over some obscure text that the three of them had recently read. Charlie and Thorfinn were in the middle of a game of Cards Against Humanity, a game the twins had invented after spending a day in a muggle toy store, with Bill and Ginny who was staring up at Thorfinn with adoration, she’d no doubt learned that he had been scouted by several quidditch teams before joining Voldemort’s ranks and would be interrogating him throughout the night.

Narcissa was entertaining Kingsley with some new gossip and glaring daggers at her husband’s petulant mood as they watched the game in front of them. The fact that Lucius Malfoy was even sitting in the living room at the Burrow was something out of a drug-induced fever dream and not the reality as they knew it. It was as out of place as Dumbledore dressed in drag in a racy magazine. Disturbing to the point of hilarity. She shared a smile with her aunt over it as she approached them, both of them acknowledging the hilarity of the situation. 

“Hello Auntie, Kings.” She greeted the two of them with a warm smile before turning to Lucius and trying to hide her smirk, “Hey Uncle Lucy.” 

He rolled his eyes and huffed, looking every inch the pouty toddler in couture as he rolled his glass of brandy between his fingers, “How many times must I remind you, you ridiculous child, that my name is not Lucy.”

“At least a couple more.” She quipped back at him earning the snickers of several people around him and plopping onto the floor in between Charlie and Thorfinn, leaning into each of them in greeting and snickering at Ginny’s interrogation. 

“Where’s the kid?” Charlie asked with a grin, dealing her into the game without even asking if she wanted to play. The man was nothing if not manipulative.

“Kidnapped by the Grandmas.” She replied with a smile of her own, “He’s probably eaten his weight in sugar by now.”

Charlie pouted like a child, puffing his lip out in such a ridiculous manner she couldn’t help but laugh, “Mum never fed me my weight in sugar.” He complained to their utmost delight.

Bill snorted, “Because you were annoying enough.”

“You’re both annoying.” Ginny reminded them under her breath, sharing a wink with Evie.

“Says the world’s most annoying little sister.” Charlie shot back with a good natured smirk of his own, anyone who knew the two oldest Weasley brothers knew how much both of them adored their little sister. It didn’t stop her though from reaching out and yanking on a strand of his hair, earning an indignant shriek of surprise from the man as he threw up his hands to defend himself from his little sister’s attacks. 

Ginny just laughed him off and returned to her cards, “What is it with grown-ass men who refuse to cut their hair because they think it makes them look cool?”

“Which one are we talking about here? I’m pretty sure they could  _ all _ use a haircut.” Evie joined in with an exaggerated whisper to the girl, earning several shouts of protest. Every man in their immediate vicinity (bar Kingsley) had at least shoulder-length hair. 

“Uncle Lucy, of course.” Ginny decided with a mirth-filled smile, earning another groan of protest from the man sitting on the couch beside them. There was only so much the man could take. But if anyone had a right to torture him, it was Ginerva Weasley.

“Why did you make me come here, Cissa?” He whined to her aunt, earning a spiteful smile of her own, “Who would want to spend their holiday surrounded by such hellions?”

“Lots of people. I’ve heard that we’re great company” Evie argued with a laugh at the man’s obvious discomfort, though even she could tell that he was enjoying the festivities despite his pompous air of sophistication. 

When Henry burst through the doors of the kitchen almost an hour later with a wide smile on his face and a half-eaten cookie clutched in his hand, she noticed that the blond man’s gaze darkened in recognition. He watched as Henry launched full-speed into Evie’s arms and began showing off the half-eaten cookie that he’d apparently decorated. 

“It’s Santa, Mummy.” He told her with an excited burst of energy as he pointed to the mess of red and white frosting on top of the cookie.

“Of course it is, lovebug.” She agreed with a laugh, tucking him into her lap, “Just how many  _ Santas _ have you eaten so far?”

“Just this one, Nana said I need to leave room for dinner.” He told her with his own pout, one quite similar to the one Charlie had just displayed moments earlier, “I got this one 'cause I helped decorate ‘em.”

Lucius’ voice was quiet when he spoke, a shiver inducing sound of ice and silver, “That’s… Evangeline, do you realize who that is?”

She leveled him with her own glare, all but daring him to contradict her, “He’s my son.”

“He’s the son of a murd -”

She cut him off once more, her tone shifting in warning towards the man as she spoke, “Of Antonin Dolohov.”

He all but hissed at the name, “One of the Dark Lord’s -”

Evangeline sighed, “Forgive me, but I don’t believe you’re in any place to talk,  _ Uncle _ .”

Heavy silence filled the space between them as the two of them faced off in a silent battle of wits. Testing the limits of their camaraderie once more. 

It was Thorfinn who finally broke the tension, turning toward the child in her arms with a smile, “Well goodness me, this can’t be the famous Henry I’ve heard so much about?” He teased, addressing her son with a familiar smirk, diffusing the tension as Henry whipped around to face him, his eyes going wide with excitement, recognizing the man next to him.

“Uncle Thor!” Henry exclaimed with a shout before launching into his lap without a care and surprising the lot of them. The room went deadly quiet as Henry climbed obliviously up to his shoulder and wrapped his arms around the viking’s neck, “Have you seen my daddy?”

Thorfinn’s eyes grew stormy but he continued smiling down at the kid, ignoring the shocked silence that reigned around him, “No kid, not too recently. But I’m sure he'd be thinking all about you and what you’re up to today.”

Henry pouted, at that but perked up in an instant, “Can you come play with me again soon?”

Thorfinn met Evie’s eyes over his head as if he was asking her permission, she could feel the gaze of everyone in the room watching the interaction with bated breath, “Of course he can, lovebug.” She answered pushing all the questions from her mind as she addressed the little boy in his arms, “Thorfinn is  _ my _ brother so he’ll be able to come see us all the time.”

Henry climbed back over to her lap, “Can we show him my stars?” He asked, his voice the exaggerated whisper that all kids were prone to using as he looked up at her hopefully.

“Of course, love.” She assured him with a smile, cuddling him close, “He and Charlie are the ones that hung them, you know.”

He looked up at her in wonder, “They did?”

Charlie answered with a grumble before she could, “I’m not climbing on his shoulders next time.”

Bill snorted, “Could have used magic, dumbass.”

“Jar.” Hermione popped her head up over the back of the couch to say, delighting in the miserable expression on the man’s face as he pulled a sickle from his pocket and magicked it over to the jar in the corner, earning another mark against him on the chalkboard above it. 

From the moment Teddy had been born, Molly had begun enforcing her no-cursing policy once more, insisting that they all needed the practice before his first word turned out to be ‘fuck’ or some other bullshit. The mad-genius of a woman had turned it into a competition with a cash prize, to be decided on New Year’s Eve. Whoever had the least amount of strikes against them would win the pot. 

Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, Bill and Hermione were neck and neck for the lead and had been ruthless in calling each other out over the past few weeks as the deadline neared. Charlie figured that Bill had more big brother experience than the lot of them and had always had to watch his language around the house. That, partnered with his own competitive spirit, made him the perfect competitor for Hermione. It’d been extremely entertaining watching them battle it out for the contents of the jar. Almost as funny as watching Fred and George come up with ridiculous substitutes for their favoured words and when they finally saw that they had no chance of winning, incorporating the made up phrases and words together with their favoured curses, trying to outdo each other for the most marks on the board. To say that Molly probably learned her lesson would be an understatement. 

When dinnertime rolled around and everyone gathered around the table, Evie couldn’t hide the smile from her face watching the family go out of their way to make Henry feel welcome. As the only child in attendance (not including baby Teddy who would not have any memory of the occasion) he was delighted - and a little overwhelmed - by the attention and soaked it all up from his spot on her lap. The dining room had been magically extended over the years to accommodate the many places at the table and as she looked around the room her heart swelled with love and gratitude for the people that had become her family. 

As dinner ended and the group moved back to the living room to exchange some gifts, spirits were high and the little house was filled with so much joy and excitement Evie thought it might burst. Henry was plopped on Alastor’s lap by the fire, refusing to be intimidated by the magical eye and asking a million and one questions about it. She didn’t even try to hide her smile as she watched him answer each and every single one with careful explanation, indulging the little boy with a rare smile of his own. She could remember all the times she, Dora, Charlie, and Thor had sat on his lap as a child and asked him just as many questions about ridiculous things and her heart swelled further at the memories.

By the time she moved to gather Henry into her arms and head home that night, he had passed out against the grizzled old auror’s shoulder and was drooling onto the man’s shirt. 

“Kingsley told me what you’re planning to do tomorrow.” The man told her with a grimace, no doubt about to warn her against it.

She sighed, running her fingers through Henry’s curls as she spoke, “You can’t talk me out of it, Uncle.”

Alastor leveled her with a knowing look, “I don’t like it, lass.”

She rolled her eyes but indulged his need to protect her, “You don’t have to like it.”

“Evangeline, I know he -”

She cut him off, “I don’t want to hear it. It’s time I get Henry home, he’s had a late night.”

It was his turn to sigh, “Promise me that you’ll be careful. People don’t need to get any ideas in their heads.” 

“It’s Christmas, who would even be there to see us?” She insisted with a smile, accepting the sleeping child he handed up to her.

“Evie…”

“I’ll be careful, Uncle, I promise.” She assured him as she adjusted Henry on her hip.

“If things go wrong…” He warned her, his voice trailing off with the implication.

“They won’t.” She promised him, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek, ignoring his grumble as she did so. 

He sighed in defeat, knowing better than to push her, “Happy Christmas, Evangeline.”

She smiled once more at the man, “Happy Christmas, Uncle.” 

After collecting all of the shrunken gifts into her tote bag, she said her goodbyes to the room and stepped into the floo, ready to join Henry in slumber herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it was fluff heavy 😉
> 
> Leave some love and stay safe out there! ❤️


	14. Maybe Redemption Has Stories To Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late and a dollar short. (Does anyone know what that saying actually means?)
> 
> Anyways, here you go! It's a fluffy mess but it's my mess so I love it anyways. Not beta'd and barely edited so how's that for perfection? As always, I own nothing. If I did, I'd be flying home from surgery tomorrow in a private jet with Henry Cavill, Tom Hiddleston, or Chris Evans cuddled up next to me. Speaking of which, I have no idea what these next few weeks are going to look like posting wise. As I've said before I've got the next six chapters written (but not proofread or edited) and plan on posting them pretty regularly (compared to my other fics at least) but make no promises because since this is a major surgery I'll probably be out of it for a while.
> 
> But regardless of my impending drugged-up state, I love you guys so much and I hope you're staying safe out there. And if you're out protesting, I sincerely wish I could join you all, please be careful out there. Especially in the States. Take as many precautions as you can and plan for all outcomes. Protests can go from peaceful to violent at the flip of switch (especially with the police escalation we're seeing now) and you should always have a plan in place for what to do if that happens. And if you can, consider donating to one of the many organizations that are working with the BLM movement. There's more than one way to help and whatever little bit you can do to help will make a difference. I'll add some links down below for y'all both for research and support.

Evangeline had never been more grateful for her son’s own exhaustion as she was on Christmas morning 1998. The child slept like a little angel well into the morning and by the time he finally did wake up, Andromeda was already there to witness the festivities in their entirety.

“Happy Christmas, lovebug.” Evie greeted him with a cuddle and a kiss to the temple when he walked sleepily into the living room and climbed right into her lap, not quite fully awake yet. “Did you sleep okay?” 

He nodded against her, yawning widely as he struggled to keep his eyes open, “I’m hungry mummy.”

“I bet you are, kiddo.” She replied, laughing quietly at his obvious priorities as Andromeda looked on in obvious affection, smiling warmly at the sight of Henry curled up in his mother’s arms. She’d spent the night at Dora’s and would be heading back there to spend the afternoon with the two lovebirds and her youngest grandchild at lunch. 

“Luckily for us, your Gigi brought sticky buns.” Evie continued, combing her fingers gently through his sleep-mussed curls. 

He perked right up at the mention of food and grandmas, noticing Andromeda sitting across from them on the couch and climbing into her lap without further ado, “Sticky buns?” He asked excitedly, as the two women laughed at how quickly he could forget his tiredness.

Andy pulled him in close, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Yes, my little love, lots and lots of sticky buns.” Henry all but licked his lips in anticipation, “But the real question is, do we want to eat them now or open presents first?”

Apparently he had not been expecting any more gifts as he looked swiftly to Evie in hesitant excitement, “More presents?”

Evie smiled back at him, her heart clenching in her chest once more as she saw how surprised he was by all the festivities and celebration, “Yeah, baby, more presents.”

He seemed to ponder her reply for a moment before turning back to Andy, “Can we eat first?”

Andromeda smiled, recognizing his hesitation, “Of course, love.” She replied, pressing another kiss to his head before passing him back off to Evie, moving from the couch towards the kitchen to gather up the platter of deliciousness she’d brought along for breakfast. 

“Snuggles Mummy?” Henry asked, looking up at her with hope shining in his eyes as she pulled him close and nuzzled his nose.

“All the snuggles you want.” She assured him with a smile as Andromeda laid out the dishes before them, offering Henry the first choice and laughing in delight as he devoured the sticky bun with vigour. Clearly, the kid had a major sweet tooth as evidenced by, well, everything.

Evie accepted one as well, thanking her pseudo-mother for her thoughtfulness as they spent the next little bit enjoying the quietness of the morning and revelling in the peacefulness compared to the night prior. When they finally turned to the wrapped presents under the tree, Evie and Andy watched as Henry carefully tore through the wrapping paper of each gift he was given. Her heart filled with love once more as the child grew more and more excited in his unwrapping, delighting in how he laughed and shrieked with joy at every reveal. She knew she’d gone a little overboard with the gifts, but as it was his first Christmas with her she wanted it to be everything he’d ever dreamed of. 

When the child had unwrapped the entire pile of presents, a mix of magical and muggle that she’d spent the majority of the month wrapping and hiding away in the few moments when he wasn’t attached to her hip, Andy turned to Evie and handed her a little box, 

“This is for you, my little daredevil.” She told her with a sad smile, motioning for her to open the box, “It belonged to Callie and I think it might be time I passed it along.”

Evie held her gaze as she fingered the luxurious paper that was pressed tightly around the shape of the box, a moment of understanding passing between them as Henry played with his new fire truck on the rug at their feet, enjoying the sounds it made and using his new quidditch figurines as the firemen. 

Evie hesitated, but lifted the edges of the wrapping paper as carefully as she could, revealing the little gift box and lifting the lid to reveal a solitary key.

“It’s to the cottage you always used to love so much.” Andy explained, unshed tears shining in her eyes as she revealed the origins of the old house her two daughters had spent so much time daydreaming about, “Before Evan’s father died, they lived there for the first few years of their marriage. Callie had insisted on living as close to me and Ted as possible and refused to take no for an answer, and Father never found it in himself to deny her.” She smiled sadly at that, no doubt remembering the troubles that had arisen regarding her own place in her family, “Though it’s technically one of the Black family properties, Sirius and I both agreed the deed should be transferred to the Rosier family, that way it will always remain with you.”

Evangeline’s own tears made their way down her cheeks as Andy finished her explanation, unable to find the words to express the profound gratitude that was welling in her chest at her Aunt’s gift. “Thank you.” She whispered to the woman who had raised her and loved her as her own, reaching across the couch to wrap her arms around the woman, “Thank you, Mum.”

“Happy Christmas, Evangeline.” Andromeda replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek as Henry continued playing with his fire truck next to them. A picture perfect christmas all tied up in a bow.

***

The elderly lady who’d been at the prison the night she’d rushed to see Antonin greeted them with a huff as they entered the prison. She signed the two of them in and motioned for them to go on before returning to her steaming cup of tea and nearly finished book. Evie thanked her with a small smile and bundled Henry closer to her. They were both dressed warmly and shrouded in temperature regulating charms, but Evie knew better than to take any chances. She kept Henry tucked close to her, as they climbed the levels of the prison, silencing the prisoners’ calls with a protective growl of her own. 

Henry had his head buried in her neck as they went, his favorite teddy bear clutched tightly in his arms. Shivering slightly at the cold feeling of the prison. She hated the tangible anxiety that rolled off of him, but she knew she was doing the right thing. When they reached the floor before his father’s she steeled herself to cross the length of the building, adjusting the little boy in her arms and pushing open the door. “Close your eyes, love.” She whispered into his hair, not wanting him to come face to face with anyone he might remember from his time spent at the mercy of Voldemort. For once, pervasive shouts did not greet her ears. Instead there was a quiet rumble of words spilling from each cell as she passed, hisses of recognition at the little boy in her arms. She held him tighter, glaring daggers at each of the men and women who dared to utter a word before continuing on. 

She let out a breath of relief when they passed through the door at the other end, telling Henry he could open his eyes as she climbed the last set of stairs. When the door at the top slammed open she tried not to flinch at the bone-chilling wind that whipped against her face. She pulled Henry’s tobogan lower over his ears and tucked his scarf up higher around his neck. 

“It’s cold mummy.” He told her matter-of-factly, burrowing deeper into his coat.

She laughed quietly, a sound that was sure to be lost in the wind, “Yes it is, baby.”

He giggled along with her, “Are we almost there?”

“Almost, love.” She replied with a smile, “Can you be really quiet for me so we can surprise him?”

Henry nodded and smiled, holding his finger up to his lips in the cutest little movement. She pressed a kiss to his cheek in reply and carried him further down the hallway. The evening light left the hallway looking even more desolate as they made their way down the cell on the far end, careful to keep her steps quiet and light. As much as she knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to sneak up on a Death Eater, she didn’t want to give him a chance to turn them away.

He was lounging on his bed, in the light of the lantern, book in hand and his back to the door when they arrived outside his cell, seemingly unaware of their presence. 

She wrought open the door with a great creak of sound yet he didn’t even move a muscle, “What part of ‘stay away’ did you not understand,  _ Kukolka _ ?” He didn’t turn around to face her, instead flipping to the next page in his book, “I thought I told you -”

But before she could stop him, Henry let out a loud shriek of delight and wiggled down out of her arms, interrupting his father’s reprimands as the man turned sharply to face them, “DADDY!”

His eyes were stormy as he threw the book down on the bed and stood to sweep the excited little boy up into his arms, murmuring broken strands of Russian into his ear as he held him tightly against him. Henry cuddled up close, settling into the crook of his shoulder as if he’d never left, and chattered to his father about everything he’d missed. Like it was perfectly normal to see him in an ice cold prison. Dolohov watched him with heartbreaking emotion shining in his eyes, listening to every word the little boy spoke as if it would be the last time he ever heard his voice.

Evangeline stood nearby in the doorway, not wanting to intrude on the moment but feeling the ache in her heart intensify with every breath she took. She leaned against the cell door, watching the reunion through her own tear filled eyes as Henry told his father of all his new friends and his new room and the gifts he’d gotten for Christmas. When he spoke of ‘mummy’ and his adoption it was all she could do not to cry. The love in his voice as he told his father all about her cuddles and her love and their adventures melted her heart further and further.

Finally, Antonin lifted his head to meet her eyes, a myriad of pain and emotion swimming in the depths of his own, “ _ Dorogaya, _ you shouldn’t have -”

She interrupted his protests, with a warm smile, “Happy Christmas, Antonin.”

“Evangeline…”

“This is just as much for him as it is for you.” She told him with a firm sort of grace as she walked further into the cell and stopped just in front of him, laying a soothing hand on Henry’s back as he watched their interaction with obvious interest.

“Damn it,  _ moya lyubov',  _ w e need to talk about this!” Antonin all but growled, startling Henry who flinched at the sound in his arms, leaving Antonin with his own startled guilt. 

She reached up to cup his cheek in her palm, keeping her own voice steady and low as she tried to convey all of the reasons not to speak of it in front of Henry, “Not now, Antonin. Just enjoy the moment, you can yell at me later.”

“No yelling at Mummy!” Henry declared, patting his father's chest in firm childish reprimand as the two of them stared at each other with stubborn will, “Only kisses and snuggles.”

Evie dropped her gaze at his words, feeling the blush creeping up her neck once more as Henry began speaking once more about all he had done since he’d last seen his father. He told him of seeing Uncle Thor and how he was  _ really _ his uncle now because he was ‘Mummy’s big brother’

She laughed despite herself, of course Thorfinn would trick her son with the fact he always liked to proclaim, “He’s the same age as me, lovebug.”

“No, he said he was oldest.” Henry argued back, sitting up in his father's arms to face her

“Of course he did.” Antonin grumbled against his son’s blond hair, rolling his eyes at the other death eater’s insistence and lowering himself to sit on the bed behind him, motioning for Evie to join them.

She hesitated but claimed the spot next to him, listening to Henry’s story about his quidditch lessons and wishing against all hope that the scene before her wasn’t playing out in a jail cell. She could almost see them curled up on her couch with a warm blanket and a roaring fire, hearing Henry tell his father all about his day and the adventures he’d taken. If anything the scene in her mind strengthened her resolve in getting him out. 

“Oh! Mummy!” Henry shot up to face her, crawling over from Antonin’s lap and into her own, reaching up to her ear to whisper, “Can I give Daddy his gift now?”

She bit her lip in amusement, reaching for the box she’d put into the pocket of her own coat, using the charm Andromeda had taught her once more, “Of course, love.”

The little boy squeaked in excitement and turned to face his father, not quite leaving her lap, as he handed over the neatly wrapped gift, “Here go, Daddy.”

Antonin looked down at the package in what looked to be shock, not moving to do anything else as he moved to look back at Evangeline, pain lingering in the depths of his eyes as he held her gaze. 

“You’ve gotta open it, Daddy.” Henry prompted him, nudging at his leg and smiling widely as his father tore his gaze back to the little boy, a true smile on his own face.

“I had no idea!” He replied in the sweetest tone Evangeline had ever heard, indulging his son’s excitement as he carefully lifted the present to inspect it, “Would you help me,  _ Varobushek _ ? I don’t think I know how.”

Henry laughed, “Yes you do, Daddy!” but the little boy showed him anyways, helping him to rip the paper off the box and giggling as he went, “Like this.”

“You’re very good at that, Henry.” 

“I’ve had lots of practice.” He told his father with a toothy grin, “Practice makes perfect, right Mummy?”

“That’s right, baby.” She agreed, swiping a gentle hand through his curls as she smiled down at him, 

He beamed up at her before turning back to his father, “Open it, Daddy!”

Antonin gave him a sad smile and reached for the corner of the box, slowly lifting it off and revealing a barely contained mess of art supplies. The box had been filled to the brim with oil pastels and paper and charcoal pencils and a set of inks & brushes.

“Look daddy.” Henry interrupted the silence once more, “Crayons! Except those are naughty crayons. They never stay where you tell them to.”

“I let him try mine after we bought them,” Evie explained at Antonin’s confused glance in her direction, “he was not a fan.” 

Antonin chuckled in understanding, “Well I am a big fan.” He assured his son, ducking down to nuzzle his nose against Henry’s in a way that was eerily reminiscent to how she often did, “Thank you for such a wonderful gift.”

“We brought you some more books too!” Henry told him, looking very pleased with his gift giving prowess.

Antonin shared a pointed look with her as she handed off the books to Henry, “You didn’t have to do this, Evie.”

“I wanted to.” She told him simply.

He held her gaze as Henry continued chattering on, listening contently to the little boy's stories as the wind whipped through the cell. It wasn’t until she began to feel the temperature charms wearing off and Henry began shivering under his thick coat that she knew it was time to go.

“Henry, love, it’s time to go home now.” She whispered to the little boy, hating herself for having to force him away from his father and loathing the man more for refusing to let her fight for him. 

He gave a small pout but nodded his head, “Okay Mummy.”

“Can you give your Daddy a big hug goodbye?”

Henry smiled at that and launched himself up to the man’s neck wrapping his arms around him as Antonin held him tight against his chest, unshed tears filling his eyes. Evie turned away from them, moving off the bed to face the metal bars of his cell, trying to hide the tears that were filling her own eyes. 

She knew her shoulders were shaking with her silent sobs as Antonin told his son that he loved him and whispered soft words in broken Russian once more. She had never hated herself more than she did in that moment. When a strong arm wrapped around her waist she turned into him, inhaling the scent of him as she buried her face in his chest and fought to stop the tears.

“Okay Mummy?” Henry asked patting her on the top of her head with his small little hand

She raised up to face him with a smile, trying desperately to hold in her anguish for the sake of her son. Of  _ their _ son. “I’m just fine, baby.” She assured him as he wiggled out of his father's arms and into her own, laying his head against her shoulder as he settled into her embrace. 

Antonin held them both for several beats longer before murmuring into her hair, “You need to go.”

“I know.” She agreed, “Kings should be downstairs, he and Alastor are gonna take him back home for dinner and his bedtime routine so we can talk.”

“Gramps and Pop-Pop!” Henry exclaimed, using the names he’d insisted on bestowing upon them the night before as Antonin stared down at the two of them with a soft smile.

“That’s right baby.” She told him with a smile, “You get to hang out with Gramps and Pop-Pop. I bet that if you eat all your dinner they’ll even let you watch a movie.” She turned back to Antonin, “I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t like this.” 

She sighed, “I know.”

“Refresh your warming charms before you come back.” He reminded her.

She nodded, “I will.”

He planted one last kiss on his son’s head, before nodding to her to go. She slipped out of the cell with one final glance and carried Henry back down through the levels of the prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> Kukolka - Little Doll  
> Varobushek - Little Sparrow  
> Dorogaya - Darling  
> moya lyubov' - My love
> 
> Also shoutout to the lovely Ferrelly who corrected the translation of 'darling' for me! Apparently I'd been using the one went for a man. Whoops! I'm working going back and correcting it all and I should actually be posting the edited chapters soon! 
> 
> ****
> 
> Petition for Justice for Breonna Taylor:
> 
> https://www.change.org/p/andy-beshear-justice-for-breonna-taylor
> 
> Black Lives Matter:
> 
> https://blacklivesmatter.com
> 
> A Comprehensive List (WITH LINKS) of Protests / Petitions / Bail Funds / Contact Officials / Black Voices, Restaurants, & Businesses/ Mental Health Resources / Education Resources / Black-Led LGBTQ Resources / And More!:
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jsCO7zuVvpj4gWyheDZ1jH2i83hVUsYLjEhsLnl9-8c/mobilebasic
> 
> A List of Articles on How To Be Anti-Racist and Support BLM as an Ally:
> 
> https://theeverygirl.com/we-need-to-be-actively-anti-racist/?utm_source=Website+Signup+List&utm_campaign=89e3df536c-Friday+Roundup+5.29.20&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_b0b510c806-89e3df536c-40486297
> 
> Article (WITH LINKS) to youtube videos with ads that's proceeds go directly to BLM (a great way to donate if you don't have any money to spare:
> 
> https://www.polygon.com/2020/6/2/21278150/black-lives-matter-funds-donations-youtube-monetization-zoe-amira
> 
> An article about how to protest safely and a checklist of things to bring and do:
> 
> https://www.buzzfeed.com/ajanibazile/protesting-tips
> 
> List of Black-Owned Bookstores:
> 
> https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/ariannarebolini/black-bookstores-black-authors-books
> 
> An Essential Reading Guide for Fighting Racism (Check out Thriftbooks (if you're short on $$) or a Black-owned bookstore (list linked below)):
> 
> https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/ariannarebolini/george-floyd-amy-cooper-antiracist-books-reading-resources
> 
> More Ways To Help:
> 
> https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#
> 
> ***
> 
> I love you all so much and am so grateful for each and everyone of you for reading this story. Please stay safe out there! ❤️❤️❤️


	15. But I Only Have Two Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! 
> 
> I'm not going to say too much in this author's note because I am tripping hard on pain pills and have NO IDEA what I am writing (disclaimer: I just finished writing and editing this chapter five minutes ago, so if it's actually some random insert from the bizarre manifesto of an alien race trying to fit in with humans so they can steal all our Netflix content and NOT the next chapter of SotF... I'm sorry? Though am I really? That would honestly amazing if it was, in fact, the case). 
> 
> Anyways, I own nothing. If I did, I wouldn't have to keep asking my mom for Chris Evans' phone number in the midst of my post-surgery/drugged-up haze (because he'd have slid into my DMs ages ago) Seriously though, that man is a dream and while I'm not someone who actually thinks I'd ever have a chance with a big movie star like that (and let's be honest, dealing with the craziness of Hollywood is not what I'd call appealing) I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't jump at the chance to just hang out with him for a while. The man is a NATIONAL TREASURE, after all. Like Nicholas Cage should just try to kidnap America's Ass in the next movie (instead of like, idk, the Lincoln Memorial) and they should just end up just going out for ice cream or something because hot damn, the man is too good to be true. 
> 
> WOw. I'm officially losing it. I think I just need some attention... and maybe some cuddles. Scratch that, lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Honestly, at this point I would just settle for a man to just lay on top of me for a while. (Someone should invent a giant weighted teddy bear for that sole purpose.) BRB calling my guy best friend at 2am to fill in as a giant teddy bear. Don't worry I'm bribing him with pancakes (that he can make) and his favorite movie (it's Zootopia. A grown man who's in the Marines favorite movie of ALL TIME is Zootopia. He's even written fan fiction on it. Is that amazing or what?).
> 
> We're getting off topic. In conclusion, this is a mess and I own nothing. 
> 
> P.S. - Aliens, if you're reading this, I promise I don't have any idea what your plans are and I swear I'm not a threat to your dreams of taking over the internet. I pinky swear. Cross my heart and hope to die stick a needle in my eye and all that stuff.

Antonin was waiting when she arrived back at his cell, pacing like a madman before he realized she was there. His eyes shot up to face her when she unlocked the cell and stepped inside, a million miles of pain stretching between them. He was furious, she could see it burning in his eyes as he stared her down. The anguish, the worry, all melding into one fiery explosion of emotion just waiting to happen. And his voice was like ice water injected into her veins when he spoke, forcing her own guilt to the surface as he stalked towards her, a haunting imposition of the man she’d faced down all those months ago in the deepest levels of the Ministry. 

“I’m so angry with you I could -” 

But he stopped cold as she all but ran across the room to meet him and wrap herself around him, effectively silencing his tirade as he exhaled against her hair and relaxed into her embrace, dragging his hands up to circle her in his own arms. There was something about it, something in their embrace that soothed her soul better than anything else she’d ever known. 

“You needed to see it.” She whispered into the fading light of the room, feeling him relax against her with every heartbeat that echoed in his chest. The feeling of it against her ear was like the steady reassurance of her favorite song, lulling them both deeper and deeper into the trance-like comfort the other provided.

“See what?” He sounded tired, like he was his own sort of Atlas suffering under the weight of the world. Aching for something to ease the pain, someone to take the burden. His dark hair left shadows in the hollows under his cheekbones, giving him the appearance of some twisted form of Death, a beautiful sort of sorrow that she couldn’t help but be entranced by. 

She pushed the thought from her mind as she reached up to brush the strands away, “How much he still loves you.” She told him honestly, watching the myriad of emotions that played quickly across his features. The joy, the pain, the sorrow. But it was the guilt that hurt the most, as if Henry shouldn’t still love him, as if it was wrong of him to still want it. Wrong for a son to love his father and wrong for the father to still want his love. 

“Evie…” Her name was a groan, a whispered warning not to push him. 

“Kingsley knows.” 

He flinched against her as her fingers brushed against his temple, tension filling his form with just those two little words, “Evangeline!”

She knew he would be angry, she knew it would only cause him to worry more, but she also knew that he, of all people, deserved to know the truth, “He followed me after Thorfinn was released. I didn’t know he was there.” She explained, keeping her own voice calm and mellow, a stark contrast to his own heightened intensity, “He’s had his suspicions for a while. He’s going to help me get you out.”

He was nearly shaking in rage, “I swear to fucking Merlin, if either of you are hurt because the fucking minister -” his voice broke at the word, anguish shining in his eyes at even the thought of it. 

She ached to reassure him, to grant him some sort of peace outside of these four walls, “No one’s going to get hurt, love.” She ducked her head as she realized the endearment she’d given him, hiding her face against his chest once more and refusing to let him go.

He groaned, holding her firmly to him as if he was reassuring himself of her presence before him, “ _ Ty ubivayesh' menya zdes'.”  _

She moved to look up at him, unsurprised by the worry in his eyes, “I’m getting you out of here, Antonin.” She promised, knowing that despite the world and their protests, she would break him free of this prison. 

He sighed heavily, pushing away to stare down at her, “Evangeline, there have always been bigger things at play here. Things you cannot possibly understand.”

She held his stare, placing her hands on her hips in her own stubbornness, “I’m not a child, Antonin.” 

He groaned and stalked across the cell, dragging his hands through his hair and moving to sit on the edge of the cot, “No, you’re most certainly not,  _ Kukolka _ .”

She stood her ground, “Nor am I some fragile doll that needs to be protected.”

He cursed and dropped his head into his hands, looking as defeated as she’d ever seen, “Evie…”

“I want more than this for you, Antonin.” Tears were filling her eyes as she pleaded with him, “I want you to have a life outside of these walls, a life where you can watch your son grow up and be a part of it! For fucks sake, you stubborn bastard, let me do this!”

He stood suddenly, stalking back over to her with bitter determination written across his face, “Swear to me you’ll drop this, Evangeline.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and held his gaze with her own, “You know that I can’t do that!”

“A month ago you were saying that he didn’t need me.” He challenged her, his own voice rising steadily, “That I deserved to  _ rot _ in here, why can’t you just go back to that?”

His words hit her like a slap to the face, amplifying the ache within her, “Because of the truth.” She whispered, tears leaking down her cheek as she willed him to let her help. To let her carry some of the burden. To let her  _ fight _ for him. 

“I’m far from innocent.” His voice was ice, the brutal cold she had witnessed throughout the war, trying to shut her out once more as they faced off high above the freezing sea.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your innocence, Antonin.” She cried, her anger bubbling further in her veins as she tried to reason with the man, “I’m getting you out of this fucking inhumane cage!”

He laughed, a bitter sound that tore at her very soul, “This is where I belong.”

She shook her head, holding back a sob as she stared at him, “No it’s not.”

“Damn it,  Evangeline .” He roared, “Why can’t you just accept that?”

“Because Henry is your son!” She yelled back at him, moving forward until there were only inches between them as she called him out, “And he deserves to know his father!”

Fury lit in his eyes as he yelled at her once more, “Is that why you brought him here? To use him as a bribe? To show me how lucky he is to have you?”

“No! Of course not!” 

“Then why would you torture me like that,  _ moya lyubov' _ ?” His voice cracked on the last syllable, emotion pouring from him as her heart broke further for the man in front of her.

She staggered backwards, understanding crashing down over her, “It wasn’t supposed to be torture, I swear I just, he deserved to see his father on Christmas. I thought you’d like to see him too. I didn’t realize...”

He reached for her, tilting her head up to face him with the gentle probing of his thumb, “Don’t bring him back, promise me you won’t bring him back.”

She stared back at him, “Antonin…”

“Promise me, Evie!” 

“I - I promise.” She searched his eyes for something, anything that didn’t make her want to rip out her heart with guilt, “Antonin how can you ask me to keep him from you?”

He continued to hold her gaze as the words filled the space between them, weighing heavily in the freezing air around them, “Because I can’t lose you.”

She shook her head, moving to loop her arms around his waist as she tried to reason with him, “You won’t lose us.” She promised, “You’ll never lose us.”

He ripped from her hold, stalking back across the cell and dragging his hand forcefully through his hair as he went, “You can’t make promises like that.”

She stamped her foot in ridiculous anger, hating herself for her tears and her sobs, “I’ll promise whatever I damn well please!”

He whipped around to face her, his eyes blazing with protective fury, “You’re putting yourself in danger just by coming here!”

“For all anyone else knows it could be a stipulation of our adoption agreement!” She shouted at him as he began to pace the length of the cell once more, his broad shoulders coiled and tense with his own anxiety.

“People will talk, Evangeline. No one in their right mind would want to spend time with their parents’ murderer.” 

She flinched at his words, “You didn’t murder my parents!”

“I just sat by while the almighty Albus Dumbledore  _ did! _ ” He shouted, towering over her as she stared up at him, her tears continuing to spill over. “I’m just as guilty as he is!”

“And I _ joined _ him.”

He leaned heavily into the cell wall, allowing the stone to hold the brunt of his weight as the fight seemed to just abandon him, “I ran, Evie. I fucking ran.” She’d never heard him sound so broken, so desolate, before.

She stepped up to him, hating how he flinched as she raised her hand slowly to his cheek, her fingers resting hesitantly against the skin as she held his gaze, “We both made decisions we aren’t proud of, Antonin.”

“You didn’t know what he’d done.” His voice was low as the obvious battle raged in his eyes.

“Even if I didn’t know, I always suspected he wasn’t as good as he claimed to be.” She hated how her voice broke with the admission of the truth. She hated herself for allowing him to brainwash her into joining him, into  _ fighting _ for him.

Antonin reached to grip her hips, his strong fingers pressing reassuringly into her flesh as he stared into the depths of her own eyes, “You did what you could with the information you had.” 

“And so did you.” She promised him, brushing another fallen strand from his cheek, the softness of it between her fingers surprising her as she tucked it behind his ear, “They  _ told _ you to run.”

“And I hate myself for listening to them!” 

“If you hadn’t, neither of us would be standing here and Henry wouldn’t be sitting in my flat surrounded by Christmas presents and manipulating his grandfathers into sneaking him chocolate!” Her breath hitched at the very thought of it, “We made our choices, Antonin, now it’s time we live with them.”

He sighed, standing back to his full height as he continued holding her gaze, “Then let me live with the consequences of my mistakes. Don’t make me drag you into it as well.”

She shook her head, pleading with him to let her in, “Not alone, no one deserves to carry the burden of their mistakes alone.” 

“Evie, you don’t understand what you’re asking.” He dropped his head against hers, their breaths mingling and his eyes closing as he spoke, “You shouldn’t be a part of this.”

“I’m asking for you to trust me.” She whispered, slamming her own eyes shut and fighting the tears that continued to flow, “To let me help you shoulder the burden.”

“No.” The simple word sent tingles down her spine, wishing against all hope that they could be arguing anywhere else, about anything other than this.

She lifted her lids to look up at him, wishing she could convey every word she wished she had the courage to speak in the little space between them, “I didn’t come here to fight with you, Antonin.”

“Then why are you here,  _ moya lyubov' _ ?” His voice was ragged, like he was fighting with himself to speak.

Her own breath hitched in her throat, “You feel like home.” She breathed out, grateful for the growing darkness of the cell to hide her blush over the admittance, “I can’t explain it. You’re like this safe haven I can't help but run to.”

“Fucking hell.” He cursed, moving to wrap her up in his arms once more, bringing her flush against the hard planes of his torso as the wind whistled through the cell, “ _ Ty eto dlya menya, detka. I ya nenavizhu sebya za eto. _ ”

Neither of them spoke as she buried her nose once more in his chest and sobbed against him, unsure of why she was even crying anymore, but relishing in the feeling of his arms tight around her, of her own fingers pressed against the small of his back. Of his lips pressed into the top of her hairline.

“You’re freezing,  _ Kukolka _ .” He whispered against her skin, pulling her closer to him as he ran his hands up her arms in a vain attempt to keep her warm.

She snuggled deeper into his chest, refusing to acknowledge the effect of the elements, “I don’t care.”

“Didn’t you remember the warming charm?” She shook her head, “ _ Ty stanesh' moyey smert'yu, ved'ma.  _ You’re going to get sick up here.”

She shrugged against him, “It's worth it.”

He groaned, “Evie…” She could hear the hesitance in his voice, the unanswered questions drifting through the air. 

She burrowed deeper, accepting all of the warmth and comfort he gave to her so freely, “Just shut up and hold me, okay?” 

He sighed, but didn’t push her away. If anything he brought her closer, tucking her right up against him as they stood together in the middle of the freezing prison high above the sea. 

“Happy Christmas, Antonin.” She whispered into the wide expanse of his chest.

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, so light she almost thought she imagined it, “Happy Christmas, Evangeline.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Kukolka - Little Doll  
> Ty ubivayesh' menya zdes'. - You’re killing me here.  
> moya lyubov' - My love  
> Ty eto dlya menya, detka. I ya nenavizhu sebya za eto. - You're it for me, baby. And I hate myself for it.  
> Ty stanesh' moyey smert'yu, ved'ma. - You’re going to be the death of me, witch.
> 
> ***
> 
> Not the kiss we hoped for but a little something to keep us going, I hope. 
> 
> If you are out there protesting, I love you all and I'm sending a million hugs and imaginary tins of Henry's Christmas cookies your way. Please take precautions and stay safe! 
> 
> You ALL have my heart! ❤️ 💜 💙 💛 💚


	16. Is There A Chance, A Fragment of Light, At The End of The Tunnel, A Reason To Fight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: THIS IS A MESS. 
> 
> But it's my mess and I still love it a hell of a lot. 
> 
> I got my staples out today, so I'm high as a kite and this has definitely not been proofread, let alone edited. Judge me as you wish (just don't tell me how much of a mess it is, I'm emotional right now & craving chocolate... I truly don't think I could handle it) and I promise to fix it later. 
> 
> I own nothing. If I did, I'd have a chauffeur to drive me around while my ankle heals. That or Massimo to keep me company (that boat scene though, can we just talk about that for a minute? Definitely memorizing it for inspiration and wishing for my own Sicilian adonis to tie me up and do all kinds of naughty things to my body). 
> 
> And now I'm praying that my mother never goes hunting for my Archive account.

In the week following their visit to the prison, Evangeline busied herself with every task she could think of to push all thoughts of Antonin far from her mind. She set up playdates for Henry with his friends from the manor, met Narcissa for tea, got ahead on her work for Xeno, even took to helping the twins out at the store with Henry on her hip as the twins entertained him with all sorts of new products between customers. And after putting the little boy to bed each night she worked on packing up the flat instead of having to face the man who haunted her dreams. 

By the time New Years Eve rolled around, she was exhausted and ready to move out to the little cottage that her mother had loved so dearly. Even though the entire family that they’d formed over the years had volunteered to help her move in after the new year, she had gathered up Henry and all of the boxes and shrunken furniture that morning and carried it over to the house. The elves from the manor had cleared it out and made it livable once more earlier in the week, and so she was content to let Henry explore as she unpacked boxes and charmed everything into place. 

Even though the Manor was just sitting empty at this point, she wasn’t ready to move back there. She wasn’t ready to face the demons that haunted it for every day of her life. But even she could recognize that her little flat was barely enough to contain the little troublemaker she called her own. And while she didn’t want to admit it, Andromeda had been more than right with her assessment of the fact. She was already planning for the garden she would plant out back and the swingset Henry would have come springtime. By the time she’d gotten their bedrooms and the main living areas set up, it was time to head to the Burrow for the New Years Eve festivities. 

The party was already in full swing when they arrived and the excitement rubbed off on Henry who was wiggling to get down the moment they arrived and running off to find all of his adoptive grandparents and aunts and uncles the second his feet touched the ground. She couldn’t hide her own smile as he moved from person to person, accepting all the love and affection they had to offer and laughing like a little maniac when Thorfinn greeted him by tossing him up in the air and swinging him around before dumping him in Charlie’s waiting arms. She watched as he conversered with the two of them before spotting Dora’s arrival with Teddy tucked into her arms and moved to greet the quickly growing baby with such gentleness that Evie had to shove down the want in her belly to give him a little sibling of his own. 

Her mind wandered to Antonin as she watched him ask to join the baby in the play pin that had been erected on the ground, smiling as he played peekaboo with his new cousin. She wished he could be here to see it, to see how wonderful their son was. To enjoy this moment with her. The scar on her belly pulsed with every thought she had of him, as if it too wished he was there. But she could see him in the way Henry’s dimples flashed when he laughed, of how his eyebrows wrinkled when he was thinking, of how his blue eyes watched everything around him with a sort of awestruck wonder. She wondered if her son’s father would share even more similarities with him if he wasn’t locked up in a dank prison high above the freezing sea. She pushed the thought from her mind as she accepted a drink from Bill, nodding her thanks before moving to join Thorfinn and Sirius on the couch, joining into their lively debate over who was the best pranking group in the history of Hogwarts and laughing at the general shenanigans that surrounded them as the night went on.

Evie was more than content to spend the rest of the holiday curled up on the couch with a revolving group of friends, indulging in laughter and spirits and, as the night grew longer, supporting a sleeping Henry on her shoulder while she rubbed soothing circles against his back. 

“Are you ever going to tell me why Henry calls you Uncle Thor?” She asked him as midnight approached, they were the only two still sitting on the couch, as Dora and Charlie had snuck off with the twins to pull a prank on the elder marauders and the younger crew had disappeared upstairs to the attic for some party games while the remaining few adults remained happily spread among the living room, kitchen, and garden. 

Thorfinn sighed, “It’s not my story to tell.”

“Thor-”

He sighed once more, leveling her with a warning look, “Evie, this is a conversation you need to have with him.”

“With Henry?”

“With Dolohov.” He told her firmly, leaving no room for argument as the sounds of the upstairs excitement drifted down to greet them and Sirius began drunkenly singing the words to a tune that sounded vaguely English.

She pulled her attention away from him despite their conversation, “Thor…”

He leveled her with another look, refusing to budge on the stance he had taken, “Not here, not now, Evie.”

She frowned at him, but nodded in understanding, “One day soon we’re going to talk about this.”

He lifted his glass to his lips, taking a long gulb of the amber liquid within, “Soon.” He agreed, opening his arms and letting her curl up within them, each of them drawing comfort from the other as midnight drew nearer. 

When the countdown began, the room was once more filled to maximum capacity with the younger generation stumbling down from the attic, trying to hide their obvious drunkenness while the rest of them rolled their eyes and pretended not to notice. When the countdown ended there was a great burst of celebration as kisses were given and fireworks exploded beyond the windows of the burrow, lighting the winter sky in bright bursts of shimmering color as singing broke out and drinks were topped off once more. 

Evie smiled down at Henry, still sleeping soundly in her lap with the assistance of a muffling charm. She pressed a kiss into his temple and brushed a lock of hair from his cheek, grateful once more for having him here with her, curled up in her arms as they welcomed in the New Year. 

It wasn’t long after that, before she gathered him up on her hip and stood to carry him home, knowing that they were both going to be exhausted in the morning and wanting nothing more than to curl up in her bed at that moment. So she said her goodbyes, accepting hugs and kisses from many in attendance before stepping into the floo and heading home, smiling as the living room of their new home greeted her with warm light as she stepped from the fireplace and carried the little boy up the stairs. She laid him gently on the bed before slipping him into his pajamas, offering the sleepy child his teddy bear and little blanket before tucking him under the sheets and disappearing into the bathroom for a shower and sobriety potion. 

It wasn’t until she returned to the bedroom a while later, wrapped up in her own cozy pajamas, that she jumped out of her skin at the sound of soft tapping at the window. 

_ It’s only an owl,  _ she reminded herself as she worked to steady her breathing before crossing the room to let the little creature in. Even if he was a harmless little thing, she couldn’t stop the desperate reminders that pushed through her thoughts. Of Antonin’s worries to be cautious and careful. She shook off the paranoia as the little owl handed off the missive with gentle efficiency, tucking his head under her hand in request for some affection as she opened the letter, surprised to find it bearing the Ministry’s insignia. 

_ Lady Rosier, _

_ The Minister for Magic has requested your presence at the Minister of Magic’s office at 9:00am on Tuesday, January 4th regarding articles of the utmost importance. He asks that you bring the cake he likes so much and the grandson who will no doubt steal at least half of it.  _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Amelie Johaness _

_ Assistant to The Minister _

_ Ministry of Magic, London _

Evangeline’s confusion built further as she reread the contents of the letter, wondering why Kingsley would feel the need to set a meeting with such pomp and circumstance, and why he would leave it to his assistant, though she was a dear friend, to schedule. She couldn’t stop the ball of worry that pitted in her stomach, her mind automatically going to the worst possible conclusion as terrifying scenarios ran through your mind. 

She fed the owl a treat before writing out her confirmation and sending him on his way, before deciding to send her own question to Kingsley to determine what it was all about, sending it off via patronus in the dark of the night. She curled up next to her son while waiting for a response, brushing her fingers through his blond hair as his breath came in steady puffs, urging her to relax further into the pillows as her eyes fluttered shut and her own breathing slowed. 

She hadn’t even realized that she’d fallen asleep until the sharp tapping at the window jarred her once more. She rose slowly from the bed, to let the animal in. Smiling at the sight of the familiar owl carrying her uncle’s chosen stationary. She opened it swiftly, smirking at the man’s quick wit and inability to be anything but blunt.

_ Evie, _

_ Bring the cake you promised me, I have answers for you but I do not want to raise alarm. We’re going to pretend that I’m offering you a job, the letter from my assistant is simply a formality. If anyone asks, you have no idea why I asked to meet with you and you assume it’s something regarding your role at The Quibbler. Do not reply to this letter, I’m drunk and going to bed now and I don’t want to be disturbed by your further questions.  _

She snorted a laugh at the man’s straightforward letter and set it aflame with the flick of her wand, knowing that she could never be too careful, before curling back up on the bed and promptly falling asleep herself. Falling once more into a dreamland starring the one man she was trying desperately to avoid.

***

Tuesday morning came quickly, the wind cold and bitter against her cheeks as she moved through the crowds of London towards the entrance of the Ministry, electing to enter through Muggle London rather than the floo and enjoying the rush of energy that surrounded her as she stepped through the charmed doors of the ministry with Henry on her hip. Nodding in hello to the young witch manning the front desk before stepping through the double doors that led her out into the main atrium, the hustle and bustle of the streets of London continuing in the cavernous room before her, the sounds of people rushing off to their offices, conversing with colleagues as they waited for the lifts, and ordering cups of tea and coffee from the cafe greeted her with a brush of familiarity as she made her way through the room. She waved to the people she knew, stopping once or twice for a quick conversation as she moved through the familiar corridors and up the lift to the minister’s office, delighting in seeing so many familiar faces as she rose through the levels of the building. When she finally reached the minister’s office, it was nearly nine and his assistant, Amelie, greeted her with a bright smile. She’d been a friend of Dora and Evie’s in school and had taken up the position of Kingsley’s assistant as soon as she’d graduated, remaining staunchly at his side ever since.

“Amelie!” Evie greeted the petite little pixie of a woman with a sideways hug and a kiss to the cheek, keeping Henry tucked up to her side as she did so. They chattered back and forth for several minutes before the other woman turned to the little boy in her arms.

“This must be the grandson I’ve heard so much about.” She greeted Henry with a soft smile, earning a shy smile from her son as he snuggled deeper into her shoulder, no doubt a little overwhelmed with the amount of people in the ministry. “Kingsley speaks very highly of you, my friend.”

Henry didn’t say anything but smiled shyly once more up at the woman, “We’re feeling just a little shy this morning.” Evie offered her friend with a light laugh, hitching the little boy higher on her hip as he buried his head into her neck. “Is Kings ready for me?”

Amelie waved off her apology with a shrug and a giggle, “He should be right out to get you. You and Auror Moody are his first meeting of the day, so he’s not running behind quite yet. But he did warn me that he needed to speak with Auror Moody before calling you in, you’re welcome to sit while you wait.”

“Thanks Ames.” Evie smiled at the woman in gratitude and claimed a set on one of the couches lining the wall, passing the next few minutes with lively conversation and the latest gossip out of their graduating class as they waited for the door to open. 

“I should have known that the two of you would be out here gossiping away.” Kingsley announced surprising them both and earning a delighted squeal from Henry who wiggled to the ground to run and meet him.

“Pop-Pop!” The little boy squeaked in excitement as Kingsley swung him up into his arms and settled him onto his hip. Evie couldn’t help but notice the flash of desire in Amelie’s eyes as she watched the man’s interaction with his pseudo-grandson. She’d always suspected that the woman had a thing for the minister, and Kingsley for her as well, but seeing the way her eyes followed his every move all but proved it. She made a little note in her head to do what she could to encourage that little spark between them.

“Did you miss me, kiddo?” Kingsley asked Henry, drawing her attention back to the scene before her. 

Henry nodded excitedly, “Lots and lots. More candy?”

Evie couldn't help but to laugh as Kingsley fished out a couple jelly beans from the bag he often kept in his robes and handed one over to the child, eliciting another little shriek of joy as he popped the candy into his mouth and roared like a lion to his utmost delight.

“I’m a lion, Mummy!” He announced happily reaching for her once more as she came to stand beside the two of them.

“I heard you baby.” She told the little boy with a smile, accepting him back into her arms and propping him back on her hip, “You’re the fiercest little lion I’ve ever met.”

“Really?” He asked, looking almost surprised at the notion.

“Really.” She assured him gently, leaning down to nuzzle his nose before turning back to face Kingsley, “You ready?”

“Did you bring the cake?”

“It’s in my bag.” She told him with a laugh, “Are you going to invite me in?”

He grumbled something under his breath about ‘master manipulation’ and motioned for her to enter, “Come on in.”

She rolled her eyes but stepped through the doorway anyways, instantly greeted by the sight of Alastor settled stoically into an armchair by the fireplace looking positively put-out with whatever was occuring. He only perked up slightly when Henry clambered down from her hold, rushing over to tell him hello and ask if he really did lose part of his nose in a fight with a dragon. 

Evie caught his eye at the question, both of them knowing the true answer to the question and the words passing between them without a sound. 

“Oh a great big  _ Russian _ dragon.” Alastor told the little boy, with a tight smile, “Burned it right off.”

“Wicked.” Henry breathed, sounding just like the twins and looking up at the man in awe as Kingsley settled back behind his desk and Evie withdrew the covered platter from her purse, returning it back to its normal size before placing it in front of him. 

“You’re probably wondering why I called you here.” Kingsley began, falling into the authoritative persona the public was more than familiar with. Evie watched him expectantly from her place in the chair across from him, helping Henry back into her lap when he returned to her side, “It’s come to the Ministry’s attention that our population is dwindling. Our numbers are lower than they’ve been in centuries and we must do something to counteract it.” 

Evie stared at him with confusion, wondering what this had to do with anything they’d ever spoken about, but letting him continue on just the same, “We’re going to be offering incentives to people to, um, boost the population. That being said, in joint decision with the MLE, we’ve decided to reintroduce a great number of Azkaban’s inhabitants back into society.” Evie sucked in a breath and snuck a glance at Alastor, understanding dawning on her for his sour mood, “This will include a great number of Death Eaters as well.”

She held her breath, hope blossoming in her chest, “Including Dolohov?”

He shared a look with the elder Auror across the room before answering her question, “Including Dolohov.”

“Against my better judgment.” Came Moody’s low growl from his spot by the fireplace.

Kingsley sighed, “He’ll be required to submit to a wand trace and a number of other parole stipulations, but as of this evening he will be released from Azkaban.” 

Evie tried desperately to reign in her emotions, refusing to let either of the overprotective men see just how much the ex-Death Eater affected her, “He’ll be free?” She asked quietly, shifting Henry up higher against her chest, trying and failing to remain nonchalant.

Kingsley was watching her closely as he spoke once more, “Part of the reason for telling you, is that we’re both worried he will show up at your door and try to take Henry away from you-”

She shook her head in disagreement, “He won’t.”

Alastor sighed, “You don’t know that, lass.”

She whipped around to face him, “He won’t.” She repeated, this time throwing a bit more force behind the words.

He was unimpressed, holding her gaze as Kingsley countered her once more, “Either way, we’d like to put you in a safe house for the time being.”

She laughed, a bitter sound that caused Henry to tense against her. She dropped a muffling charm around her son, not wanting him to hear anymore of the conversation about his father’s sins, before turning back towards the minister, “You’re joking.”

“Evie-”

“No.” She argued, “NO. You’re not stowing us away in a safe house somewhere.”

“Evangeline, it’s for your own safety.” Alastor growled, from his spot, slamming his staff against the ground with little effect, despite the power that gravitated off of him. 

“He won’t hurt us.” She insisted, unfazed by his show of strength and power, “Hell, I’ll prove it to you. He can stay with us.”

“Damn it, lass!” Though she knew that it wasn't the smartest suggestion to make, given the general lack of trust Alastor had in Dolohov, she was not expecting another growl to tear from his mouth as he stood to his feet and crossed the room towards her, his paranoia obvious in his fury, “That is a monumentaly stupid idea.”

Yet she refused to back down, simply steeling her own gaze against him and raising her chin in defiance, “If you don’t want him to show up at my house prepared to kill me and steal Henry away, then don’t try and keep him away! He’s more than welcome to stay with me. Period.”

Silence reigned as Kingsley and Alastor shared a look, almost as if they had expected her to argue as much, “It’s risky, Evie.” Kingsley spoke this time, his voice gentle as he pleaded with her.

“He won’t hurt us.” She whispered out, knowing deep in her soul that it was the truth and subconsciously cuddling Henry closer. 

Kingsley sighed, apparently resigned to her argument, “Fine. Alastor will be the one to release him tonight. He’ll escort him to your house straight from Azkaban.

She turned back to face the old Auror, “Can I come with you?”

He shook his head, “No.”

“But-”

He interrupted her attempt to change his mind by holding up a simple hand, “It doesn’t need to be seen as you having anything to do with his release.”

“I don’t give a  _ damn  _ about my reputation.” She growled back. 

“It’s not your reputation that we’re worried about.” Kingsley told her, drawing her attention back to the Minister across the desk as Alastor moved towards the window, his magical eye whirring in it’s socket, “It’s your safety. Whether you realize it or not, he’s still a dark wizard. You don’t need to be linked to him anymore than you already are.”

“Kings…”

But he leveled her with a heavy look of his own, “I’m serious, Evangeline. You’re not going.”

She sighed standing to her feet and hefting Henry higher on her hip, “Fine. Is there anything else? I’ve got things I have to do today.”

Kingsley leveled her with a hard look, “No, that’s all.”

She turned to Alastor, “You’ll bring him?”

He didn’t meet her eyes, instead watching over the crowds in the atrium far below the minister’s offices, “You have my word.”

“Then I’m going to be the one to tell him.” She told them both with as much conviction as she could muster. All but daring with them to contradict her as she released the muffling spell around Henry and told him to say his goodbyes, smirking confidently at the two men before turning on her heel to exit the office. If anyone was going to be telling Antonin he no longer had to live out the rest of his life in an inhumane prison high above the sea, it was going to be her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, disclaimer: this is not and will NOT be a marriage law fic. I just needed an excuse to get him out of prison and I look forward to what it will allow me to work into the story later. Because who could ever say no to babies (Besides the people that don't want children, which I wholly and completely respect and understand). 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! ❤️❤️❤️


	17. I Will Shed The Sins And Struggles I Have Carried All These Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least this story's on time, even if the rest of my life is falling apart and all of my inspiration has left me in regards to my other two stories (I'm fighting to get it back, I swear). Seriously though, I would sell my soul for a morally grey, ruggedly beautiful Russian badass to shove me against the wall and do all kinds of dirty things with me (not that that's what's happening in this chapter, sorry). Anyways, maybe one day I'll find my prince. 
> 
> Not beta'd or edited because I'm a mess and we've established this. Honestly, I typed this out in half an hour(ish) and I haven't even proofread what I wrote, so prepare yourself for disappointment.
> 
> I own nothing because if I did I would totally be using all my millions to become best friends with Neil Gaiman. That man is brilliant and I want to be like him one day.

Even though she should have been used to it by now, the cold still hit Evangeline with full force as she made her way down the long corridor at the top of the prison. She shivered beneath her wool coat as she made her way towards his cell, tucking it tighter against herself and thanking the gods that she’d decided to leave Henry with Thorfinn and the twins at the store for the remainder of the morning. The little boy did not need to be exposed to cold like this. 

Fractures of icy light shimmered through the slats in the stone, casting the hall in bitter light that did nothing to ease the tension in her bones. He was propped on his bed as she approached, a book resting open on his chest and his eyes closed against the morning sun.

“Antonin…” She called out, trying not to startle him as she moved to open the gate. It shuddered under the wind, eliciting a high pitched squeal that made her jump despite the expectation. 

“What are you doing here,  _ Dorogaya _ ?” Came his harsh question, though he made no moves to leave his spot on the cot.

She stepped into the cage anyways, steeling her nerves for his inevitable anger before she revealed the news, “You’re getting out.”

He cracked open one eye, glowering at her beneath the heavy fringe that framed his stormy gaze, “You better not be _ breaking  _ me out, Evangeline.” 

She shook her head, moving to sit in the uncomfortable chair across from him, “I’m not. Kingsley is.” She told him quickly, ignoring the way her stomach flipped as he sat up from his spot and stretched, revealing a peak of the toned muscle at his waist as his ragged shirt slipped higher, “They’re releasing a bunch of the prisoners onto a parole of sorts.” She continued, trying desperately to control the blush that was threatening to overtake her as she ducked her head to avoid his knowing smirk.

“Why?” He asked instead, letting her retain her dignity and focusing on the words they spoke rather than the heady energy that was coursing through the air around them.

She shrugged, hugging herself to fight off the cold of the cell, wondering once more how he even survived in a place as desolate as this, “Didn’t say.”

His eyes narrowed, standing from his spot and crossing the room to tower over her, “You’re lying.”

Evie held her chin high in defiance, trying and failing to project confidence in the face of his imposing stature, “It doesn’t matter why.” She quipped, rising from her own seat to stand before him, “You’re getting out.” She told him firmly before stepping out of the space he’d invaded and crossing the room to stare out at the sea far below. Even if it was a desolate wasteland, no one could deny the beauty of the icy sea stretched out far below them, glittering in the hazy winter light like something out of a fairytale. It almost reminded her of the stories of the Pevensie children her adoptive father had read to her and Dora growing up, of a magical world held under the cruel thumb of an evil queen. Cruel and beautiful.

“It’s the population deficit isn’t it?” Antonin asked, pulling her from the depths of the memory as she turned back to face him, memorizing the haunted shadows of his chiseled profile, storing the sight away as a reminder of how much he’d given to protect her and her world.

“How'd you know?” She asked him, already knowing that he was more than intelligent enough to put the pieces together. 

He shrugged, holding her gaze anyways as he slowly crossed the room to her side, “Not too hard to figure.”

She nodded, turning back to the slat in the stone, watching how the waves crashed into the rocks and boulders far below, “Alastor’s coming to release you tonight.” She told him, acutely aware of how he hovered mere centimeters away from her.

“Is he now?” His breath tickled the space below her ear, a warm caress against her skin as he spoke,“And where are they expecting me to go once I’m out of here?” He asked, his hands moving to rest upon her hips, grounding the both of them further in the moment as she continued to watch the sea, “Certainly not back where I came from, I doubt they’ll let me leave the country.”

She turned to look over her shoulder, not quite meeting his gaze as she gave him her answer, “You’re staying with me.”

He let loose a harsh chuckle, his fingers tightening subconsciously on her hips, “Over my dead body.” He growled, a sound that threatened to send shivers down her spine as he held her to him.

She ignored his threat, already tiring of the men in her life going overboard in trying to protect her, as if she were some fragile doll who knew nothing of war, “Funny, you’re not the first to say that.” She told him easily, her own voice a lighthearted contradiction to his obvious turmoil as she turned back to face the sea.

“Evie-” He groaned out, her name sounding like a curse from his lips as he sighed deeply, obviously opposed to the entire ordeal.

She stood her ground anyways, ignoring every fiber of her being that told her to face him, “I’m not fighting with you on this, Antonin.”

“You’ll be putting yourself in danger!” He exclaimed, the sound of it crumbling her resolve as she whipped fully around to face him, there was a strange light in his eye, as if the thought of it was more than he could bear, “You and Henry both.”

She reached up to cup his cheek, brushing her thumb along the bone that rested there as she spoke once more, “You deserve to be with your son, Antonin.”

He leaned into her touch, his brow furrowed as he stared down at her in anxious worry, “You’re willing to risk your entire reputation over this? Risk your safety over this?”

“I’m not helpless, Antonin. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and Henry.” She told him evenly, smiling as he cupped his hand over her own, like he was memorizing the feel of her hands upon his skin, “I’m stronger than you think. I did survive your curse after all.”

“That doesn’t make you invincible.” He growled, his eyes growing stormy in the fractured grey light, “People will talk. It’s bad enough you know the truth, but me living with you would only invite trouble to your doorstep.”

She shrugged, “Then we’ll deal with it as it comes.”

He was backing her against the wall of the cell before she could even register the movement, “You promised you were being careful. Where does this fall into that?”

She held her ground, lifting her chin in defiance despite the way he towered over her, “This is me being careful, Antonin.” She argued back, her own eyes flashing defiantly with the surge of emotion she felt towards the man, “We’re stronger together. If we’re going to tear down the legacy of Albus -”

He cut her off with another growl, “We’re doing no such thing!” He spat, barely restrained power radiating off of him as he held her between the wall and himself, “Can’t you see I’m trying to protect you?”

“And I’m doing this to protect you!” She spat back at him, shoving her finger against his chest as she fought to make her own point known.

“I don’t need your protection.” He snarled at her, pressing closer despite the bruising effect of her finger at his sternum. 

“You need someone’s.” She snapped back at him.

“God damn it, Evangeline.” He roared, at war with himself over his need to protect her, “This isn’t your fight!”

“The fuck it is!” She shouted back at him finally releasing her finger from his chest only to throw her hands to the side in further anger.

His eyes flashed at her own outburst, before moving to grip her chin between his fingers, holding her gaze as he spoke once more, his voice dark and low in the waning sunlight, “You listen, and you listen well-”

But he was cut off with a sharp smack to his cheek, fire lighting in his eyes as he wrenched her hand away to pin it to the wall behind her, “Don’t you dare make this out to be something that doesn’t involve me, Antonin.” She spat, her own voice matched his in dangerous warning as she brought up her hand to shove her finger into his chest, refusing to cower in the might of his anger. “And don’t you dare pretend that you have any bit of authority over me either.”

He yanked her hand from his chest, his grip nearly bruising around her wrist as he shoved it back against the wall, fury burning sharply between them as an ill-timed jolt of wanting tore through her. “It doesn’t involve you.”

“Why do you do that, why do you shut me out like that?” Her voice sounded like nothing more than a whimper as she searched his eyes for the answers she sought, “You fight and fight and push me away and refuse to let me help you. Refuse to let me fight with you. Let me fight with you, Antonin. Let me help.”

“This is not your battle,  _ moya lyubov' _ .” He growled, wincing at the tears that were shining in her own eyes.

“I don’t care, Antonin.” She shouted back at him, further feeding the fire that burned between them,“Let me fight with you.” 

He groaned again, the sound of it igniting further fury within her as he continued holding her to him, the hard planes of his body acting as her anchor as the first of the tears leaked down her cheeks, blurring her vision a she pleaded with him, “Please, just let me fight with you…”

He sighed, dropping his head to her shoulder in apology as he spoke, “I can’t let you go to war for me, love.” He told her, inhaling deeply before rising to face her once more, searching her own gaze as he continued, “I can’t let you risk everything for me.”

She reached to cup his jaw with both hands, choking down a sob at the defeat in his eyes, “Then forget about the war, just come home to your son, Antonin.” She whispered, her vision of him blurring further with her tears as she tried rapidly to blink them away, “To Henry, please.”

He sighed, gathering her to him as he laid his head once more on her shoulder, his breath warm against her neck as he spoke, “To Henry?”

“He needs you, Antonin.” She told him honestly, her breath hitching with the confession, as she threaded her fingers through his hair, giving everything to convince him of the truth she spoke, “I need you.”

His arms tightened around her as his nose bumped against the column of her throat, “You shouldn’t say such things,  _ Dorogaya _ .”

“Please.” She asked him anyways, tightening her hold on his hair, memorizing the feel of the tangled strands sliding through her fingers.

He sighed once more, long and deep, before rising to face her, her fingers falling through his thick waves as he moved to rest upon his shoulders above her, “Evangeline, you don’t realize what you’re asking.”

She shook her head, refusing to let him believe such a lie. Refusing to let him think she didn’t see the mountainous thing growing between them, to let him believe that it was something not worth pursuing, “I’ll promise not to pursue justice without you, to let it be our decision together. To not put myself in any situation remotely dangerous. Hell, I’ll drop the case against Dumbledore completely if you’d just agree to come home.” Her voice broke on the word, knowing that if it truly came down to it, she would drop the case if it meant his freedom. That s he would trade justice for him, “It will break him to know that you’re out of here but not there with him.”

He shook his head, his mouth set in a hard line despite the obvious anguish behind his eyes, “My home is not with my son, not anymore.” His words were broken, filled with an empty acceptance that he fought to retain. He brushed a curl from her cheek, tucking it gently behind her ear with a reverence that nearly broke her. 

“It can be.” She assured him, leaning into his lingering touch as her salty tears stained his fingers.

“Evie…” He spoke, his gaze turning skywards as he groaned her name like a broken prayer to the heavens.

She reached for his chin, pulling him slowly back to face her in the growing shadows of the cell as the sun climbed higher above the prison, “Please, Antonin.” 

He sighed, staring through to her soul as her plea weighed heavily between them,“You’re never going to accept anything but my agreement, are you?” He decided, resigning himself further to her wish as he held her gaze, “I’m telling you that we’ll both live to regret this one day.”

“As long as it’s not today, I can live with that.” She promised him earnestly, meaning every word she spoke as unseen magic tensed and swirled between them, a starting contradiction of the imaginary and the real, as it tangled their souls further together.

He rocked his head back, several beats of time passing over them as she waited for his final decision, “What time is Alastor coming to retrieve me?” He asked finally and she released the breath she’d seemed to be holding from the moment she stepped through the doors to the prison that morning.

She couldn’t help the smile of relief that pulled at her cheeks, “Later tonight, I don’t have an exact time. I assume you’ll be one of the last ones to be freed.”

“Don’t you dare come with him.” He warned, his eyes narrowing at the thought of her usual disregard for authority and rules. 

“I won’t be.” She assured him, not breaking their gaze as he held her against him, all but refusing to relinquish her from his embrace as they stood together in the freezing shadows of his cell, “I’ll be waiting with Henry.”

He tensed at his son’s name, worry lighting in his eyes once more, “Where is he now?”

“At the shop with Fred and George, he loves it there. Thorfinn’s keeping an eye on him while he’s there.” She replied, reaching a soothing hand to press away the lines of worry from his brow. 

“You need to be careful who you leave him with.” He warned her, his tone serious as he tensed his fingers at her hips, pulling her to him as he tried to convey the gravity of his words.

She rolled her eyes, smirking at his lack of trust in anyone but himself, “You don’t trust Thorfinn?”

“I don’t trust anyone  _ but  _ you and Thorfinn.” He stated, effectively sobering her of her humor as the line of worry returned and his gaze hardened with the admission. 

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened between the two of you?” She asked carefully, wondering once more what could have possibly occurred between the two men for there to still be trust, even after all that occurred. 

He shook his head, before settling it once more into the crook of her neck as he spoke, obviously avoiding her inquiry, “Not today.”

“Tonight?” She prompted, earning his snort of a laugh at her refusal to let sleeping dogs lie. 

“No.” He told her firmly, his mouth moving tantalizingly over the dip of her collarbone with the simple word. 

“I could always sneak you out now.” She teased, laughing as he groaned against her, “Use my powers of manipulation to have it out of you by dinner.”

“No.” He spoke again, rising to face her with a hardness in his voice despite the humor in his own eyes. 

She pouted, the lightness of their current conversation differing drastically from their charged argument moments before, “You’re no fun.”

He rolled his eyes, “Go rescue our son from those hellions before they decide to turn him blue.”

She caught his chin between her fingers, holding his gaze as she spoke once more, “I’ll see you tonight, okay?” He nodded but didn’t say anything in reply, releasing her from his embrace and watching as she moved out of the cell. She turned to face him once more as the cell door clicked shut behind her, unable to bring herself to say anything else as they stared at each other. And not for the first time, she prayed to whatever god that was listening that this would be the last time she’d ever be forced to see his face through the bars of a cell.

***

Henry was decidedly  _ not _ blue when she arrived at the brightly coloured store in the middle of Diagon Alley, but he was perched atop Thorfinn’s shoulders laughing like a banshee and reaching for an escaped snitch that was caught in the rafters. 

She watched as he gave a great squeal of excitement when his fingers finally wrapped around the mischievous golden orb and Thorfinn congratulated the kid with his own hearty laugh, “We’ll make a seeker out of you yet!” The blond man exclaimed, lifting the child down from his shoulders as Henry beamed with the compliment.

“Quidditch talk already?” Evie called out as she made her way over towards them, laughing as Henry catapulted into her arms to say hello, “Are you having fun, kiddo?”

“Lots and lots!” He agreed, looping his arms around her neck to cuddle up close and tell her all about his day. 

She listened intently, hugging him close and letting him point out all the products in the store he liked and all the pranks he was going to pull at school once he was old enough to go. “Are you cool to hang out with Uncle Thor a little while longer? I’ve got one more thing I need to do.”

Henry nodded excitedly, turning to Thorfinn to suggest all kinds of activities they could do while she was gone. She kissed him on the temple before handing him back over, whispering her thanks to the man once more before departing from the shop and into the streets of Wizarding London, disapparating as soon as she was out of sight. 

When she touched down at the edge of the graveyard, she felt the tension she’d been carrying around for the majority of the day slip away from her. Though the grounds were quiet and the graves stood tall and eerie in the grey light of the winter, Evie felt a sense of peace from the space she’d been visiting all of her life. 

Even so, she moved swiftly through the rows of graves, walking with purpose towards her family’s mausoleum. She hadn’t been back since the night Charlie and Dora had found her half drowned in the bottle, and the guilt was eating away at her. She slipped easily through the heavy door and into the darkness of the cold, stone room wincing slightly at the chill that still permeated the air. 

After pulling her coat tighter around her, she set to work changing out the flowers and setting the room to rights, working up the courage to say what she’d come to say. It wasn’t until she’d lit the last candle that she finally sat down on the hard stone floor and faced the two empty caskets under the stained glass window depicting a beast and a rose, like something out of the fairytales she’d grown up on.

“I know.” She whispered out to the empty darkness of the tomb, her voice breaking with the simple confession, “I know about Dumbledore.” She felt the telltale prickling of tears at the secret she didn’t know they had carried with them to the grave, “I know that Bella and Antonin weren’t the ones to kill you. I know that Dumbledore was the one that took you from me, that he’s the one to blame.” 

Not for the first time she imagined her parents sitting there before her, her mother in the silk dressing gown she’d always adored and her father with a clove cigarette between his lips, a callback to what she now knew to be his own rebellious youth, it was easier sometimes to pretend that they were still there, that they were simply obscured from her vision, living on a different plane of existence but still there to hold her close, “Antonin holds himself accountable for your deaths, like it was his personal responsibility to keep you alive. He thinks that he failed you.” She told their imagined ghosts, her voice breaking further with the admission.“He’s getting out.” She whispered to the silence that surrounded her, “We’re getting him out.”

The tears were flowing freely now, leaking down her cheeks without abandon as she gave up trying to hold herself for the sake of everyone else, “I don’t know how to avenge you without risking my own life.” She admitted, tearing her gaze back up to the fractured beams of coloured light streaming through the ancient window, “I don’t know how to bring you the justice you deserve. But I refuse to let him suffer under the weight of responsibility alone.” 

_ Because no one should ever be forced to suffer alone.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BRB. Fanning myself. 
> 
> I definitely think I'm developing a super healthy (see: definitely unhealthy) crush on Antonin Dolohov. I think I might like to borrow him for a bit and find a broom closet somewhere. Seriously, I'm dying for some affection and attention over here. My extroverted ass can't take this anymore. On another note, Why can't men in real life (or at least in my life) just take ownership of their wants and their feelings and just act on their attraction (in a completely consensual way)? I'm so fucking tired of games and bullshit. 
> 
> I guess I'll just have to keep wishing for some hot foreign guy to sweep me off my feet and pass the time by rewatching Stardust (yet again). Seriously though, how are we NOT talking about this movie?!?! It's incredible and I love it a lot and I mean how can you not? I mean its got everything. Everything! (Even a bisexual(?) and blond Henry Cavill, and that's not even close to the best part of the movie). Seriously, go watch it. Like right now. Forget this fic and pirate that movie. Evangeline would understand.
> 
> Anyways, Let me know what you think! I love you all so so much and I hope you're staying safe! ❤️❤️


	18. The Baffled King Composing Hallelujah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands* Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporatedddddddd *jazz hands*
> 
> You're here early (insert feigned surprise here).
> 
> I know, I'm early too. Apparently I'm a sadistic bitch who can't wait another day to torture people with this chapter (hence, the theme song). I guess you guys just need to suffer along with me. Don't worry though, this chapter is truly one of my favorites. Mainly because they're FINALLY in the same house! GASP! I hope it lives up to... whatever it is we all wanted it to be. Either way, I'll just be over here fanning myself and coming up with a million and one more ways to torture you guys some more.
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did I'd be living in a bungalow on Coronado and spending my days surfing, eating lots of kale, and stalking Captain America (I'm kidding, that'd just be weird). Though Chris #1, if you're reading this, know that if you weren't a Pats fan, you'd be the perfect man. Sorry, not sorry. 
> 
> Per usual, this is not beta'd. Though (SHOCKER) it is semi-edited. Judge me as you wish.

Antonin Dolohov knew that he was a monster. He knew that he had done unspeakable things and hurt innocent beings. He knew that he deserved a fate worse than death, a cursed existence locked high above a freezing sea with no hope for an escape. And even if he _could_ manage it, he knew that he was only asking to be hunted down like a dog the moment that he did break out. That he was just asking to be slaughtered for the monster that he was, the moment he set foot outside of his cell. He’d become resigned to it, accepting of it. It was, afterall, where he was supposed to be. That’s why the words that had come from Evangeline’s mouth sounded like nothing more than a pipe dream. A delusion of a mind that had finally cracked under the pressure of the solitude of prison. 

He refused to believe it, refused to believe that she was truly coming for him. Even though every molecule in his body knew she spoke the truth, knew that she was fighting for him, he refused to let himself have that hope. This was the only life he deserved, locked away in a tower like some sort of twisted fairytale. He spent the rest of the day alternating between pacing his cell and attempting to read. He could not rest, could not stop his mind from running away with the very thought of being free. Of being able to see his son grow up, to witness the life Evangeline had built for him. 

_Evangeline._

The woman haunted him. She wasn’t the child he’d once known, nor was she the warrior he’d accidentally cursed in the Department of Mysteries all those years ago. Not that she wasn’t still someone he’d be genuinely terrified to come across in battle, but once the war had ended she’d returned to the softness that she’d always carried with her. He hated himself for the attraction that bubbled in his gut every time she was near. How was he supposed to reside in the same little flat as her? How was he supposed to honor his promise to her parents to protect her when she tempted him with every word she spoke, with every defiant flash of her eyes and gentle curve of her lips?

He stood from his position on his cot, tossing the book back against the covers as he began pacing around the room once more, stopping only to reach for the bar that stretched across the top of the cell, pulling himself up on it repeatedly. Trying to block her image and her promises from his brain. He pushed his hopes far from his thoughts as he focused on the task at hand, wishing for the first time in lengthy incarceration that there were other people around, that there was something more he could do to distract himself from inevitability. He simply moved from one task to the next, finally moving to use each and every bit of art supplies that the woman had bestowed upon him. He barely registered the picture he was drawing, too caught up in his mind to even notice the shape his steady strokes were taking against the thick paper. 

The light had long since left the sky when he finally set the sketchbook down on the edge of the bed. He had no idea of the time, no idea of the truth to her words as doubt started to settle in once more. The hope he refused to allow himself to have slipped away with each slow breath he released. It wasn’t until his stomach growled in hunger that he realized that he hadn’t been fed since breakfast. That the elves hadn’t popped a plate into existence on the table of which he’d eaten all of his meals. He didn’t know what that meant, that they hadn’t fed him, but he couldn’t stop the hope that stemmed in his chest once more. He reached for the tin that contained the pictures Andromeda had given him, the moving photographs of Evie and Henry that she’d forced him to look at when she’d come to yell at him that day. It seemed so long ago now, seeing the woman he’d once known standing tall before him as she shouted obscenities at him for rejecting Evie’s want to adopt his son. 

He fingered the edge of the photograph, the one of Henry curled up against her in his sleep. Of her comforting embrace around him, of how she reached out, even in her unconsciousness, to sooth the whimpers that were coming from his son. Of how easily he settled into her arms. It was everything his son deserved, everything he’d ever needed. The mother he’d never known. 

He grimaced at the thought of the boy’s first mother. How she’d left him on his doorstep after severing every tie she’d ever had to him, both magical and biological. Wanting nothing more to do with the spawn of the monster they both apparently knew him to be. He’d never known who she was, the woman who’d birthed his son. She was nothing more than a faceless nobody that had been used to manipulate him. 

And he had no doubts in his mind that Henry’s birth was orchestrated by Voldemort himself. A bargaining chip to hold over his head. The one thing that could keep his loyalty tied to the cause. Little did the Dark Lord know that it would be the one thing that would ensure his disloyalty. 

He flipped to the next photograph, one of Evie surrounded by a horde of children with Henry tucked up on her hip, looking wholly at ease in the woman’s arms as she led the children in a game of what looked like Simon Says. He moved to the next one, watching as the two of them danced around the kitchen of the manor with Henry standing on her toes, gazing up at her in complete adoration as she pulled him back up into her arms and planted kisses across his cheeks to his utter delight. He turned to the next one, chuckling at the sight of Evie helping him up onto the little quidditch broom and chasing after him as he sped off with a shriek of delight. 

There were many more after that, each showcasing the love Evie had for the little boy even better than the last. Of baking cookies, and playing in the rain, of the two of them asleep in one of the rocking chairs he knew to be in the sunroom of her parents’ house, of every moment of the last six months of his son’s life. He swallowed down the pain as he reached the last picture, the one picture that killed him every time. Andromeda hadn’t known that he had already decided to allow her to adopt his son long before she’d shown up threatening him within an inch of his life and had obviously snuck the last picture in there as a true dagger to the heart. 

It was of Henry in the hospital. Of Evie curled up around him in a protective cocoon as they both slept. Exhaustion was prominent on both of their faces and Henry was so little and malnourished it made him want to reanimate the Dark Lord once more just so he could kill him himself. 

“She refused to leave his side for the entire time he was there.” Andy had explained all those weeks ago, “From that moment on, he was her son. It was like all the puzzle pieces just clicked into place.”

He ran his finger along the edge of the photograph, memorizing the way his son struggled for breath, how his cheeks were sunken and his skin was sallow. Refusing to let himself forget the horror of it, the facts of how it had come about.

_It was his fault._

His choices were the ones that led to his son’s stay in the hospital. His mistakes were the ones that threatened his little boy’s life. He cursed himself once more as he stared down at the photograph, committing every detail to memory once more before tucking it neatly back into the tin that had once contained the christmas cookies Henry had decorated. 

The sound of approaching footsteps alerted him of someone else’s presence in the hall, much too heavy to belong to the woman he’d grown so fond of. And though it wasn’t the quick steps of Evangeline, he recognized the limp that they carried, the heavy difference between the two boots slamming into the stone. 

Alastor had come for him after all. 

He laid the tin next to him on the cot before standing to his full height, ready to face the grizzled old Auror once more. Alastor scowled as he came into sight, his magical eye whirling chaotically in it’s hold. It wasn’t until both eyes landed on the tin behind him that the older man deigned to speak, “I should have known she’d be sneaking in contraband.” He sighed, the only acknowledgement he gave as he stepped into the cage. 

Antonin shrugged, unwilling to offer up anything more as the two faced each other in the muted darkness of the cell. 

“You are hereby released of your bonds, for the good of the wizarding world.” Alastor told him with his usual disgruntled grumble of authority, “Your wand will be returned to you upon your exit from the building and papers outlining your release will arrive in the next few days. If you attempt to flee, you will be hunted down and executed within the full extent of the law. Do you understand?”

Antonin stifled the urge to roll his eyes, “Yes.”

The auror handed him a bag from his pocket, silently instructing him into gathering up the personal effects that Evangeline had snuck in and watching closely as he moved swiftly around the cell to gather up the few items she’d left. Placing the treasured art supplies and books and photographs neatly in the bag he had been offered, he refused to turn his back on the old auror, knowing that the man would do anything to protect Evangeline wasn’t exactly a comfort when faced with Alastor’s hatred of him and Antonin wouldn’t put it past him to kill him where he stood.

It wasn’t long before he’d finished and they were making the trek back down through the prison, it’s eerie silence and emptiness doing little to settle his own nerves as they continued down the neverending stairwells and corridors. Neither of them spoke a word as they walked past the deserted cells, the darkness shifting to accommodate them as they went. It wasn’t until they reached the traveling room at the center of the prison that Alastor spoke once more. 

“I may know you to be innocent of Evan and Calliope’s murders,” He told the ex-Death Eater with a hardened gleam in his eye at the mention of their dead friends, “but know this, if you hurt my girl I will personally hunt you down and finish what we started twenty-two years ago.”

He motioned the ex-Death Eater towards the fireplace without bothering to give him a chance to reply to the threat, dragging him through it with him as the flames tore the both of them from the prison and deposited them into the cozy living room that obviously belonged to none other than Evangeline. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the scene before him. Of her laid out on the spacious sectional with a book in her hands and Henry curled up asleep against her chest. She smiled in greeting and raised a finger to her lips, not wanting to wake the little boy. 

“I’ll be by to check on you tomorrow.” Alastor told her quietly, his voice a gruff whisper as Evie nodded her consent and waved him off with a smile. 

As soon as the Head Auror disappeared back through the floo, Evie motioned him forward, smiling warmly at him. “He wanted to stay awake to see you.” She explained with a soft whisper, “He just fell asleep a few minutes ago but I think he’d like to know that you’re here if you want to wake him.”

He hesitated, the warm cottage feeling foreign and dangerous as he warily took in his surroundings, from the extensive record and book collection lining the walls to the overflowing toy chest by the end of the couch to the mixture of professional and childhood art framed throughout the room, “Are you sure?” He asked, suddenly faced with the absurdity of the situation they’d found themselves in. Tucked away in the blissful domesticity of a country cottage far from the lights of London, far from the normal he’d always known. 

“He’s been waiting all afternoon.” She assured him with another gentle smile, seemingly unphased by his arrival in her living room. 

Antonin nodded once in understanding, shaking off his own unease before moving to crouch down on the floor next to them, brushing his fingers gently through his son’s hair as he whispered out his name, “Henry.” 

He woke slowly, his eyelids fluttering heavily with sleep as he tried to focus on the man in front of him, “Daddy?” He breathed out the question, his voice slurred with sleep. 

“Yeah, _Varobushek_.” He breathed, trying not to choke over the emotion that bubbled in his throat, “I’m here.”

Henry smiled dazedly, struggling to maintain consciousness as he greeted him, “You’re here.”

Antonin chuckled, cupping his son’s cheek in his palm as his eyelids fluttered shut once more, “I think it’s time you got to bed, little one.”

He nodded sleepily, not even fighting the suggestion as he curled up closer to Evie who was watching their exchange with a hidden smile, ducking to press a kiss into his hair as he buried his head into her chest once more.

“He’s had a long day.” She explained quietly, moving to stand from her spot on the couch, accepting the hand Antonin offered to help her up, “Thorfinn and the twins completely wore him out and he fought his nap this afternoon.”

He followed her as she moved towards the stairs, letting her lead him up to the second story of the cottage “So I take it they didn’t turn him blue?”

“No,” She chuckled as they climbed the stairs, passing an assortment of framed photographs along the way, “They just continued to corrupt him into their own mischievous protegee.”

He smirked at her back, trying not to notice the way her muggle jeans cupped her arse just so as they reached the top, instead dragging his attention towards the windows to his left, the full moon highlighting the world beyond the four walls of the cottage, “Should we be worried?”

She turned to flash him a smile over her shoulder as she led him down the hall, turning into the first door on the left “Most definitely.”

He watched as she moved into what was obviously her bedroom and laid the child, _their_ child, in the center of the bed, tucking him under the covers with a gentleness that made his heart ache. He watched from the doorway as she brushed his hair from his forehead and placed a kiss upon the skin there, whispering a prayer over him before returning to Antonin’s side with a blush highlighting her cheeks. 

“Have you eaten?” She asked as she faced him in the doorway, her eyes searching his for something he didn’t understand.

He shook his head, unable to voice the words as he stared down at her in the dim light of the room. 

“Aunt Cissa brought over your things from the Manor. She thought I was asking for them for Henry and was more than happy to be rid of them.” She told him, motioning for him to follow him down the hall, and into an empty bedroom filled with several boxes, “They’re all right here. If you want to shower and change into something more comfortable while I heat up some food, the bathroom’s right through there.”

His heart filled with gratitude at the gesture, “Thank you, Evangeline.”

“Of course.” She shrugged off his thanks and ducked her head to hide the obvious blush that was creeping up her neck, “I don’t have a bed yet, we just moved in a few days ago, but you can take mine for the night. I’ll bunk in Henry’s.”

He shook his head, knowing that sleeping in her bed was only asking for trouble, “No, no it’s okay. I’m fine on the couch.”

She tilted her head in amusement, “I don’t think you’ll quite fit.”

As if the couch wasn’t ridiculously large. 

He shot her a look, “I’ll make it work, I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”

“Shower.” She told him, rolling her eyes and turning to exit the room, “We can argue about the logistics later. I set some fresh towels out next to the sink, let me know if you need anything.”

She was gone before he could reply, leaving him standing alone in the silent bedroom, hundreds of miles away from the prison he’d awoken in.

***

Antonin met her gaze as he stepped into the kitchen a little while later, feeling more refreshed than he had in years and dressed in the coziest sweatpants and henley he owned. Even though he could have stayed in the scorching hot shower for the rest of his life, he had forced himself out after only a few minutes, refusing to keep Evangeline waiting any longer than was necessary.

She was curled up on a window seat in the kitchen, book in hand and a cup of tea on the table before her. He tried to ignore the way her eyes lingered on his chest, or of how delectable she looked bundled up in the fluffiest blanket and coziest pajamas he’d ever seen, her cheeks were bare of any make up and her blonde hair piled up on top of her head in a messy knot that was entirely endearing. She was beautiful. 

_She was beautiful and he was in major, major trouble._

Evie spoke first, motioning to the covered plate of lasagna on the stovetop, still piping hot under stasis charms and looking every bit as delicious as it smelled. “That’s for you. There’s more in the fridge if you’d like it.”

“This is perfect.” He assured her, gathering the plate into his hands and crossing over to the table, claiming the chair opposite of where she sat. “Thank you.”

He tried to eat slowly, ignoring the urge to shovel the delicious meal into his mouth as she turned back to her book, allowing comfortable silence to fill the space between them as he ate. He watched as she reached absentmindedly for her tea, blowing once across the top of it before lifting it to her lips, never once taking her eyes off the book in front of her. His eyes drifted to the title, _Outlander._ He looked back up at her, surprised to see the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she continued to read, seemingly oblivious to his presence in her kitchen.

“You’re staring.” Came her amused whisper, barely a second after the thought had flitted through his brain, lifting her gaze to meet his own across the kitchen table as electricity filled the air between them.

He smirked back at her, setting his fork back against the plate as he finished off the last of the meal, “So I am.”

“Is the food okay?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowing in concern despite the empty plate before him.

“The best meal I’ve had in a long time.” He assured her with a genuine smile, leaning back in the chair as he studied her openly, watching as she turned back to the book to fold down the corner of the page and tuck it gently behind one of the cushions of the seat, intriguing him further to the young woman before him. He didn’t quite know what to make of her now that they weren’t throwing hexes on the battlefield or shouting at each other in a prison high above the freezing sea. 

He’d always thought he’d known her, that he’d understood her to a point that was almost terrifying, but sitting with her in a cozy kitchen filled with light and love, without any threats to face or wars to win, he was faced with the realization that whatever they held between them was a hell of lot more than just their history. It was… magnetic and consuming.

She pulled him from his thoughts with her question, shifting around to stand, “Would you like more, I can get it from the fridge-”

He reached for her hand as she moved from her seat, effectively stopping her in her tracks as unseen sparks shimmered between them, “No, Evie.” He assured her, releasing her hand as if it had burned him and she dropped slowly into the seat next to him, her own cheeks flaming, “I’m fine.” 

“This is weird, isn’t it?” She asked him quietly, searching his gaze once more for all the things he wished he could say. 

He held back the part of himself that just wanted to gather her into his arms and never let go, instead offering up what he knew to be the right thing, “I can stay somewhere else-”

“No, you should stay here.” She cut him off with a firm sort of grace despite the shy smile pulling at her lips, “I’d like you to stay here.”

He groaned, leaning back in his chair once more to glare at the ceiling in exasperation, “Evie…” 

How he would ever survive in the same house as her he didn’t know. It wasn’t right for him to be so attracted to the woman who he’d spent the better part of his life trying to protect.

She reached “I know what I’m asking, Antonin.”

He cursed under his breath, turning back to face her in the warm light of the kitchen, trying to convey all of the reasons why he shouldn’t stay, “Damn it, Evie-”

But he was cut off by a high pitched wail coming from upstairs. A flashback to his time in service to the Dark Lord, of nights spent watching as his son was tortured before his very eyes. 

_Henry._

He was on his feet before he could even think it through, pushing away from the table and tearing out of the room towards the stairs, barely registering the sound of Evie calling after him. All he knew was his son was in danger. 

“Antonin, STOP!” Came her shout, effectively freezing his frantic ascent on the stairs as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him to face her.

“Someone is hurting my kid!” He pleaded with her, his heart racing out of his chest with worry and adrenaline as she fought to retain his attention.

“No - No one’s hurting him. It’s just a nightmare, love.” Evie assured him gently, her hands moving to run soothing circles along the width of his shoulders, “He gets them sometimes. It’s alright. He’s not in danger, no one’s hurting him.”

Another cry tore through the night, setting his teeth on edge and pulling his gaze up to the hallway above them as Evie tugged on his wrist once more, pulling him back to face her, “Breathe, love.” She reminded him, threading her fingers through his own as he fought to retain his dignity, “He can’t see you like this, it’ll just scare him if you go in wands blazing.” 

She squeezed his hand gently in her own and passed him on the stairs, leading him after her as she went, her movements just as quick as his had been. He followed her through the bedroom door, wincing at the sound of his son’s cries and stopped at the sight of him curled up in a tight little ball under the covers, visibly shaking as he cried out for his mum.

Evie reached for the child as she released his own hand, moving carefully to wrap Henry up in her arms and whisper soothing words against his temple as he cried, clinging to her neck as tears ran down his cheek. “It’s alright love, mummy’s got you. You’re safe, baby. You’re safe.”

“Daddy died…” Came his frantic whisper in the night, effectively paralyzing him as he watched helplessly as she comforted yet another child he’d failed to protect, “Daddy died.”

“Daddy didn’t die, Henry.” She assured him, catching his own gaze over top of the little boy’s head, heartbreak and understanding shining within the depths of her eyes “Daddy’s right here see?” 

Evie’s words propelled him forward, pulling him onto the bed with them as Henry looked up to face him, his blue eyes shining in the lamp light as he reached for him, “I’m right here, Henry.” He promised his son as Henry slipped into his arms, pressing into his chest with a whimper as Evie continued to rub soothing circles up and down his back. 

“You’re okay, baby.” She assured him, her words soothing the both of them, “We’re all okay.”

“We’re all okay.” Antonin repeated, desperately trying to slow his own erratic heartbeat as Henry reached back for Evie, moving to settle against her chest once more. 

He watched as she slipped off her cardigan and pulled them both under the covers, cuddling him closer as she pressed soothing kisses into his hair. He felt like he was invading into a life that wasn’t his own, watching how wonderful Evie was with him. How perfectly she comforted him.

He moved to stand from the bed, recognizing the moment as his cue to leave.

“No Daddy, don’t go!” Came Henry’s shriek, pulling him back to his side as he stared into his son’s tearfilled eyes, overwhelmed with the guilt of all the pain and suffering he had caused. 

“Henry, I’m just going downstairs to sleep on the couch.” He promised his son. It would be better for everyone if he wasn’t here. If he wasn’t the constant reminder of his son’s worst nightmares. 

“No! You have to stay. You have to stay!” Henry cried out, fresh tears slipping down his cheeks as he sat up to yank on his father’s arm, trying and failing to pull him into the bed with them, and turning back to Evie to plead with her, “Make him stay!”

He could see the battle breaking out behind her own eyes, of the position his presence was putting her in, “Antonin -”

He moved to cut her off, to try and explain that she didn’t him here, “Evie-”

“It’s okay.” She told him anyways, shifting back towards the middle of the bed to make room for him, “There’s plenty of room. It’s just one night, right?”

He nodded in understanding and slid hesitantly under the covers, feeling entirely out of his element as he shifted closer to the two of them, breathing a sigh of relief as his hand came to rest on Henry’s back, a reminder that it was all real. That he hadn’t imagined it. He was out of the cell he’d thought he would die in. Out of the prison he was forced to live in.

_He was home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. It's a tale as old as time. 
> 
> (And of course there's only one bed. Would it really be fan fiction if there wasn't?) 
> 
> Raise your hand if you're ready for some smutty shenanigans?


	19. What Will Become of These Gestures We Have Made?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Appears out of a murder of crows, holding a slushy and dragging this mess of a chapter on a leash behind me*
> 
> Gosh, these last few weeks have not been the best. Between family drama, post-surgery pain, and other monotonous bullshit, I've basically lost all will and reason to write. Not to say that I'm stopping with any of my stories, I'm not. But I'm really, really struggling to put pen to paper right now. 
> 
> Anyways, I own nothing and this is most definitely not beta'd.

Evie awoke in the soft light of the morning to the feeling of someone unwrapping themselves from around her, the sudden lack of their presence leaving her mourning the comfort and heat that they had provided. She whimpered in the cold embrace of the air as the sheets lifted beside her, allowing his escape. She heard his whispered curses as he tucked the blankets back up over her, smoothing out the edges as he went, the heaviness of his hands lulling her back into the dreams she’d been pulled out of. 

The second time she awoke it was to the sharp whistling of the wind outside her window, the tell-tale sign of the storm raging beyond the sturdy stone walls of the cottage. She pressed a kiss to Henry’s temple before easing him out of her arms and stepping into the slippers that sat, discarded, on her side of the bed moving towards the bathroom for a hot shower. 

It wasn’t until she’d emerged from the heady spray, wrapped in a fluffy towel and encased in steam, that she fully took notice of the blizzard beating against the sides of the house. She moved swiftly to her closet, trying to block out the chill that was seeping through the warm heat of the towel that surrounded her, as she tugged on some worn jeans and a cozy jumper that reminded her of an old lighthouse keeper. It had always been an old fantasy of hers, to live in a lighthouse by the raging sea, with only cozy sweaters and a wolfhound for company. She smiled to herself as she pulled on a pair of camp socks, knowing that she would never survive so cut off from society, but allowed herself the dream all the same. 

By the time she emerged from the closet, Henry was just waking up, stretching his arms up above his little head as he let out a great big yawn, looking every bit the little lion cub he’d imitated only the day before. She leaned against the doorframe of the closet, watching as he slowly awoke, before rising up and reaching for her. 

“Good morning, little love.” She whispered, sweeping him up into her arms and pressing soft kisses into his cheeks, “Did you sleep well?”

He nodded, resting his head upon her shoulder and letting out another adorable little yawn before closing his eyes once more. She reached for the throw blanket resting on the edge of the armchair by the window, draping it around the both of them before making her way quietly down the stairs. A warm glow from the fireplace greeted them in the living room, highlighting the outline of Antonin’s form on the couch, a book open in his hands. He turned to face them, his sleepy eyes sparking in the firelight, as she stepped off the stairs and onto the chilled hardwoods lining the floor of the cottage. 

“Morning.” She whispered out, not quite meeting his eyes as they faced each other in the room, not wanting to acknowledge the tension that hung heavily between them.

“Morning.” He agreed, and she could feel his eyes upon her as she turned towards the kitchen, studying her as she moved. 

“Have you eaten?” She called out over her shoulder as she reached for the bowl of berries she knew Henry would ask for, setting to work washing and chopping them as Henry slumbered softly against her shoulder.

“No,” His voice was closer than she’d expected, jarring her slightly as she turned to face him, surprised to see him standing just behind her, “Let me help you.”

She raised her head to look up at him, her eyes lingering once more on the wide expanse of chest peeking out from behind the well-worn henley as she forced her eyes up to his face, “I’ve got it.”

“Evie-”

She sighed and motioned to the glass-covered pedestal on the far end of the counter, “You can slice a couple slices of banana bread, and there’s some overnight oats in the fridge if you’d like to heat them up.”

He nodded, not saying anything more before starting the tasks she’d given him, falling into a comfortable rhythm with each other as they moved around the small kitchen. Evie could feel his eyes on her as she shifted the blanket higher around Henry, tucking him closer to her as the chill from the raging storm outside seeped slowly into the space. They didn’t speak as she pulled several plates and bowls down from the shelves, offering them one at a time to him to fill with the hot oats. He continued to watch her as she magiced the dishes to the table, and she fought to ignore his gaze as she settled into the window seat with Henry in her lap, still half-asleep against her.

She summoned the jar of peanut butter and the canister of chocolate chips as he claimed the seat opposite of her, eyeing her curiously as she scooped up a spoonful of peanut butter into her bowl of oatmeal followed by a few chocolate chips on top. She repeated the action over Henry’s bowl, feeling the blush rising up her neck as he continued to watch her with a humored smirk.

“What?” She asked finally, eyeing him cheekily as she raised her spoon to her lips.

“Chocolate in oatmeal?” He teased, and she rolled her eyes while swallowing down the bite.

“I don’t like oatmeal and neither does Henry.” Evie explained with a huff, knowing it was ridiculous, “But he needs the nutrients of it and this makes it taste like dessert. You try fighting with a hungry toddler over eating a bowl of lukewarm mush.”

Antonin laughed, the sound warming her down to her bones as his chuckles filled the room with a pleasant sort-of joy. Henry shifted against her at the sound of his father’s laugh, his eyes cracking open in the grey morning light peeking through the windows. 

“Tired, Mumma…” Came his whispered greeting, another yawn tearing through his little body as nuzzled closer into her neck, 

“You had a long night last night.” She agreed, running her fingers gently through his hair as he moved to look up at her, his back to his father, “I think we’ll need a great big nap today, don’t you think?”

He nodded and wiggled in her lap, turning to lean back against her, perking up instantly at the sight of his father across the table who greeted him with an unfamiliar string of words in Russian, earning a delighted smile from the boy as he reached for one of the strawberries before him.

“You need to eat your oats, love.” Evie breathed into his hair a little while later, ducking to press a soft kiss to the blond curls atop his head before turning back to her own breakfast. Henry pouted but picked up his spoon, shoveling bite after bite into his mouth as she ate her own breakfast. 

“Can we play in the snow, Mummy?” He asked after they’d finished eating, as she and Antonin moved around each other once more, setting the kitchen back to rights and Henry watched the snow coming down from his spot on the window seat. 

“Once it settles we can.” She answered him with a smile, “But not while it’s coming down like this.”

He cocked his head to the side in question, “Why not?”

“Because it’s dangerous, baby.” She told him honestly, trying to ignore Antonin’s near intoxicating presence in her kitchen as he moved around her, dangerously in sync with her own movements as they tucked everything back into its place without a word being spoken between them. 

“Why?” Henry asked once more and she hid her smile at the sound of Antonin’s own chuckle behind her, ignoring the way her stomach swooped at the sound of it. 

She instead set down the dish rag and crossed over to join him on the window seat, pulling him into her lap with a laugh, “Because it’s really, really cold and it’s hard to see through the snow as it falls. We wouldn’t want to get lost out there.”

He obviously wasn’t convinced, turning back to press his nose to the glass, mesmerized by the sight of falling snow, “But when it ends?”

“When it ends, we’ll play in the snow.” She agreed with another smile, “We’ll even go over to Gigi’s and get the sleds out.”

He looked up at her excitedly, “And go down the hill?” 

“And go down the hill.” She assured him, ducking to press a kiss into his hair before rising once more from the window seat to return to cleaning, “Why don’t you run upstairs and play for a bit, while we finish up in here.”

He clambered down from the window seat in excitement and rushed from the room, leaving the two adults alone in the small kitchen, awkwardness hanging between them.

It was Antonin who spoke first, “Who’s Gigi?” 

“My mum - Andromeda.” She replied, her aunt’s true name feeling foreign on her tongue. She hadn’t been her aunt in so long. 

“Is she well?” He asked carefully, folding his arms across his broad chest and turning to face her with the counter at his back. 

“As well as she can be.” Evie offered with a small smile in his direction, moving to lean against the counter opposite of him, trying to read between the nearly imperceptible lines of their conversation as his features hardened with every word she spoke, “We worry about her. Losing Dad almost broke her.”

The unintentional implication weighed heavily between them, turning to unaddressed awkwardness as the morning grew longer before them, the silence following them through the day as they both spent time playing with Henry while the storm continued to rage outside. Distracting him from the inability to leave the house, even with magic. 

“Why can’t we go see Gigi?” Henry whined as lunch approached, already feeling cooped up in the house and earning a hidden smirk from Antonin as he looked up from the book he’d been reading at the opposite end of the couch. 

“Because it’s dangerous to use magical travel during big storms.” Evie told him honestly, setting down her own writing and turning to gather the little boy up into her arms, “Don’t worry, love. As soon as it passes I’m sure Gigi will be at  _ our _ door ready to play.”

He hummed in discontentment but cuddled for a few moments before climbing back down to the floor to play another game of quidditch with his new figurines. By the time naptime rolled around, Henry was already out like a light against his father’s shoulder, his little puffs of breath teasing the strands of dark hair that hung around Antonin’s face. She followed them as he carried the little boy up the stairs at her own instruction, laying him gently in the bed and watching as Evie climbed up next to him, summoning a book from the shelf as Henry curled up against her side.

Before she could speak to thank him, Antonin had disappeared back down the hall, the sound of his heavy footfalls lighting worry in her belly as she tucked Henry closer to her, struggling to keep her own eyes open. The lines had been blurred long before the man had ever set foot into her home, but now it was like they were trying desperately to define them once more, trying to figure out just where everything fit. 

Of how they fit together. 

***

Antonin waited until he knew they were asleep, the little family he’d sworn to protect, before he stepped into the wintery storm that surrounded the cottage. Logically, he knew better than to trek through a blizzard with no visibility and no sense of direction, but he still had the charm on him that prevented him from freezing to death and he refused to let his sins rest any longer. He couldn’t handle the guilt that weighed over him any longer. The misery that swirled around him, reminding him of his mistakes. They’d all been haunting him from the moment he’d sworn his allegiance to the Dark Lord, every life he’d ruined… every soul he’d stolen, but none more so than the ghosts of the three people he’d failed to save. 

He shifted his coat tighter around him, trying to block out the freezing wind and icy snow that pelted against him as he made his way North, fighting off the demons that stood in his way, the swirling faces of all the people to fall at his hand. A heady cocktail of memories he didn’t want to hold any longer. He didn’t want forgiveness, he knew that he didn’t deserve it, but he had more than enough to apologize for. 

He’d ruined lives, slaughtered families, in service to a man who swore to overthrow the reign of the great Albus Dumbledore. Once upon a time, it was all he cared about. Revenge. Justice for the friends he’d lost, peace for the child they’d left. It was why he fought, why he ran to the one man who could give him that. But it didn’t excuse the chaos he’d left in his wake, the devastating consequences of his actions. Of his anger. Of his pain.

Now, all that he wanted was to move on from his past, from the war he’d disappeared into. From the man he’d become and the monster that had been created in his stead. All he wanted was to live out his days in peace with Evie and his son. But he knew that before that could happen, he needed to make amends. He needed to set things right. So he trudged onwards, towards the house of the one friend he’d wished he’d never lost. To the house of the one friend he wished he could have saved. 

***

Night had long since fallen as Evie waited for his return. She was beyond exhausted and Henry had fought sleep more than he ever had before, finally succumbing to slumber against her shoulder after a long battle of tears and screams for his father. She wanted to strangle the man for leaving without any hint or warning. She’d tried to distract herself with a book but after rereading the same paragraph four times over, she’d just given up. Content to stew in her anger as she waited for him to show… hoping that he would.

The sound of the backdoor creaking open was the only alert to his arrival, and she gathered herself up, out of the bed, and slipped from the room, ready to rip into the man for his idiocracy. He was unwrapping his scarf from around his neck when she stepped into the kitchen, looking every bit as windswept as she’d imagined he would. 

She leaned into the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him, unable to keep the ire from her words, “So you decided to come back.”

“That was always the plan.” He answered her tiredly, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the hook by the door before shaking out the snow from his hair.

“And how did you imagine Henry would react to waking up with you not here?” She asked, moving further into the kitchen as he watched her with weary eyes, as if he was expecting her anger. 

He sighed, hardening in the face of her own anger, “I went for a walk, it’s not the end of the world.”

“For him it was!” She spat at him, “He’s not even three! He’s too young to understand it all, Antonin! He’s spent the last year of his life without you, missing you, wondering when he was going to get to see you again and not even  _ twenty four hours  _ after you told him you weren't leaving you were suddenly just gone.”

“Damn it, Evie!” He shouted back at her, catching the tops of her arms in his hands as he bit back his own anger despite the battle breaking out in his eyes, “Is that how this is going to work? Are you just going to use my son as a fucking guilt trip for everything I do?”

“For fuck’s sake, Antonin.” She spat at him, shaking off his hands and throwing up her own in exasperation, “I don’t even know what  _ this _ is! Much less how it’s supposed to work!” “He was thinking you’d abandoned him. Thinking you’d decided that you didn’t want him anymore!” “He refused dinner, refused sleep, he didn’t think you were coming back. He didn’t think he was ever going to see you again!”

“And what about you, Evie? What did you think?” He shot back, fire burning within him as he backed her to the wall, electricity crackling between them.

“I didn’t know what to think!” She exclaimed, refusing to yield to his intimidation as she spoke, “You could have at least left a note, Antonin!”

“You’re not my wife.” He growled at her, “I don’t owe you anything.”

Her hand flew of its own accord, the loud smack ringing out across the kitchen with a great burst of sound, the red outline of her hand flaming upon his chiseled cheekbone. He caught her wrist between his fingers before she could pull it away, drawing it up to his chest in a move that forced her forward, flush against him. The hard ridges of his body pressed against the soft contours of her own as they each panted with rage. “You owe  _ Henry _ at least that much.” She spat at him despite the tension building further between them, dangerous fury ringing in her ears as both of them refused to back down from the war path they were on.

“Don’t make me put you over my knee.” Came his deadly warning, something that shouldn’t have ignited such wanting within her, but did. Her nipples pebbled of their own volition beneath her jumper, brushing distractingly against the wall of muscle that was his chest as she tried to ignore every instinct that was telling her to press into him. Instead she struggled to maintain her focus on his own faults.

“I’m not your  _ wife _ .” She repeated the words, taunting him with his earlier statement as the haze tension grew thick around them and she stared defiantly up at him, her eyes drifting to his lips as he pulled it back beneath his teeth, releasing it just as quickly as she drew her eyes back up to his own, a shiver running down her spine at the heat that burned within them. 

“No… no, you’re not.” He growled as the words tore from his lips, almost like a silent prayer begging to be answered as he pushed her up against the wall, pinning her there with his mouth hovering just above her own. 

A gasp tore from her throat at the move, lighting her very soul on fire as time stood still and they stood daringly at the precipice, waiting for the push, begging for the fall. His gaze burned into her, scorching her with his barely contained lust, so obvious in the depths of his eyes as he stared down at her, neither of them daring to move. Neither of them wanting to risk it all for the electricity surging between them.

And then he was everywhere, using one hand to lock her wrist above her head holding her immobile against the wall as desire shot through her core, his eyes never leaving her own. His other hand moved to grip her hips, his fingers digging into the curves there with a sense of urgency, pulling her brutally up against him and onto the tips of her toes as his mouth lowered to her own, tasting her savagely as she met him with surprise. A gasp escaped from her own lips as she fought to retain her grip on reality as he claimed her mouth with the experienced precision of a man who knew exactly how to please a woman. 

A choked moan ripped from her throat as he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, taking advantage of her parted lips to shove his tongue between her teeth, chasing her own with a delicious fury that had her keening for more. More of this, more of  _ him _ . 

Evangeline dragged her free hand up to his scalp, threading her hands through the soft strands and pulling him down to her as he moved from her lips, his questing mouth feeling it’s way down the column of her throat, pulling a gasp of surprise from her as he nipped at the skin there, just above the pressure point that had her tilting for more. Begging for him.

His hand dropped the wrist he’d captured, moving in time with the other to cup her arse in his palms, to pull her up higher against him. Trapping her roughly between his body and the wall, inviting her to wrap her legs around his waist as he pulled the lobe of her ear between his teeth, inciting another moan of approval to tear from her chest. She could have sworn she died right then and there, being ravished by the man in the dimly lit kitchen of her parents’ old cottage. 

He moved over her with the desperation of a man starved, holding her as a willing hostage as he moved back to her lips, tasting her once more as he slid his tongue along the ridge of her pallet, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine like she’d never felt before. She could feel the pressure of his erection straining against her center, pushing against her with an insistent pleading, begging for the feel of her wrapped around him and all she could think of was how much she wanted that too. 

She cried out as his teeth sunk into the hollow below her ear, relishing in the feel of his mouth on her neck as he held her captive in his embrace. She could have sobbed when he moved back to her lips, capturing her mouth once more as she tightened her hold on his hair, earning a groan of his own approval, of his own wanting.

She canted her hips against him, a growl tearing from his lips as he pressed back against her, the rough material of his jeans inciting needy whimpers from her own throat as he rutted against her like the beast of some twisted fairytale. 

But just as quickly as it began, he broke away, dropping her back to the ground. Horror shining in his eyes as she stared back at him in hazy confusion, her own mind was muddled as she fought to piece together the bits he’d left her with, and she unwrapped herself from around him as neither of them spoke, the silence building like a wall between them.

He dragged a hand roughly through his hair, mussing the already tousled waves further as she watched him with silent curiosity, her senses slowly coming back to her as he spoke, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

She stared back at him in shock, hating the words he spoke. Hating how he shouldered the blame once more. Hating how he even thought there was blame to shoulder. Couldn’t he see that she’d liked it? That she hadn't wanted him to stop? That he’d all but set her on fire with his touch? But she could see the pain in his eyes, the guilt over their actions, overpowering the lust that still shined alongside it, the evidence of his wanting still prominent in his jeans. Before she’d even realized what she was doing, she smacked him again, her own fury burning brightly in her eyes as they watered with the unshed tears of rejection. The tears of anger over his abrupt departure. For leaving her thinking she’d never see him again. 

She didn’t want to admit how much the thought scared her, how terrifying it was to think he’d just up and leave without even a goodbye. How, even without being linked through their son, he'd become such an integral part of her life. She couldn’t face the fears that rampaged through her mind as he stared down at her in furious surprise, his hand sliding up to clutch at the reddened cheek she’d left in her wake. 

She couldn’t face him any longer. She couldn’t face the pain in his gaze, the guilt in his eyes. She needed air, needed an escape, needed the privacy to fall apart over the range of emotions rushing through her body. So she turned and ran. Fleeing the room in a rush of silent sobs, racing up the stairs and into her own bedroom, only pausing at the sight of a fitfully sleeping Henry in her bed. 

She tried desperately to calm her breathing, though her tears continued to fall as she climbed in next to him. He reached out for her in his sleep, wrapping his tiny form around her as she clutched him close, putting aside her own emotions to soothe her son. Letting him draw his comfort from her as her silent tears continued to fall alongside the snow outside her window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehehehehehehehehheheheh. 
> 
> How much do you love me?


	20. You’re Barely Waking And I’m Tangled Up In You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that posting schedule lasted longer than I thought it would. 
> 
> I'm so sorry this is so late, it's been a really rough two weeks. I recently got some heartbreaking news regarding my best friend and have spent the past week and a half trying to come to terms with it. I still don't think it's fully set in and it's already brought up a lot of triggers for my own experiences and I've just kind of sunken a little bit into myself to process it all and support her through this. So writing's just kind of been put on the back burner while I try to get a handle on all of this. 
> 
> Anyways, I love this chapter even though I struggled a bit with the flow in the conversation between Evie and Antonin. A word of warning, I had all of the dialogue written and the majority of the chapter but I had to go back in and add in the rest to that conversation so with my current mental state it might be a little rough. I'm still planning on going back and reediting everything, but at this point I don't think it will be fixed on her until I get through the rest of the story and then I'll go back and fix everything.
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did I'd be living in a little cottage in the South of France surrounded by wildflowers and croissants. Gosh, do you ever just imagine running away to a different life in your mind? I dream of one day just being able to escape to a little house in Provence and spending my days writing at a little desk in front of a window overlooking the French Riviera or a field of lavender. With a cup of tea by my side and a wall of books behind me and a little town nearby that I could just walk to... gosh, my daydreams are truly getting the best of me right now.
> 
> Per usual, this isn't beta'd, because who are we kidding?

Evangeline awoke not even realizing she’d fallen asleep. Henry was still curled up against her, but his own fitfulness had subsided despite the ache in her soul. The bed seemed bigger than it ever had, bigger than it should be with just the two of them in it. How one night with Antonin could leave it feeling so foriegn without him, she didn’t know. She shifted Henry off of her, turning over to glance at the clock on the nightstand, groaning at the sight of the hour. She rolled back over, shaking off the way her body longed for the feeling of him wrapped around her. She’d never wanted anyone like she wanted him, had never craved the presence of another person like she did with him. 

There’d always been a pull there, an attraction that was better off left alone. Like her mind was struggling to wrap itself around the fact that he was the enemy, that he meant her harm. Even when he’d struck her with that curse, the one she still bore the scars from, it hadn’t severed the link between them, if anything it pulled them closer, like the taut sting of a bow, stretching for release. Winding tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. She’d never wanted to admit it, how drawn she was to the man the whole world thought had murdered her parents. The man that was still somewhere in her house... the man that she wished was in her bed. 

The scar he’d left her with prickled against her belly, as if it too was longing for his embrace. Her mind turned once more to that night. The madness that had erupted in his eyes when she’d shoved Hermione out of the way, the realization that he’d hit her instead. For years, she’d thought it was simply because he’d thought he’d finally finished the job he’d set out to do twenty years previous. Now she knew that it was fear. Fear that he had killed her with the curse that no one had ever survived. Fear that he’d failed at the final promise he’d made her parents. His own creation used against her.

She tossed fitfully under the pile of blankets and quilts, her mind racing with all of her unanswered questions. Her anger over his disappearance settling into her gut alongside a pit of worry. She didn’t want to admit how much his leaving had scared her, how she’d struggled to keep it together for Henry. How she’d lied through her teeth with assuring the child that his father would be coming home. That he wasn’t going to disappear into the snowstorm never to be seen again. She flung back the heavy blankets, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and padding barefoot towards the door, ignoring the chill that seeped into her bones as she moved silently through the house. 

The living room was dark when she entered, the only light coming from the dying embers within the fireplace, barely offering an outline of the shapes within the room. She moved carefully towards the couch, recognizing Antonin’s own fitful slumber as she approached, the ache in her chest amplifying as she noted his lack of covers and the shivers that crawled through his body in the low light. Cursing the man’s stubborn will and her own bleeding heart, she summoned a great number of blankets from the hall closet, draping them gently over his sleeping form, surprised when he didn’t wake with the movement. 

She hesitated as his breathing hitched and his body tensed further, wanting nothing more than to curl up in his arms, to offer and take the comfort that they both needed so desperately but wary of the consequences of doing so. Of crossing the line that had been blurred for so long but was now lying clearly before them. It scared her how much she needed him, fear paralyzing her in the freezing darkness of the night as she stood inches away from him, at war with herself and the agony of their past. She sucked in a deep breath, pushing every hesitation from her mind, before moving to crawl under the covers and into the little space against his body. 

Relief filled her as his arms moved to wrap around her, pulling her back to him regardless of his unconscious state. His nose nuzzled into her neck, against the very spot where he’d marked her earlier as the tendrils of warm breath tickled the expanse of her neck before him. His arms wrapped tighter, clutching her flush against him as he slept on, her own breath evening further at the ease of which he held her. Once more she was reminded of how right it felt to be wrapped up in his arms, to drown in his embrace. It wasn’t long before sleep claimed her again, the even rising of his chest against her back lulling her into slumber better than any lullaby ever could. 

***

She was pulled from sleep once more when Henry crawled up into her arms, his quiet whimpers waking them both as he settled against her chest, leaving her sandwiched between the two of them as Antonin adjusted his hold on her to include his son. 

“I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He breathed into her hair, once Henry had settled into sleep once more, the soft sound of it doing little to disguise the pain in his voice.

“I’m glad you did.” She whispered back, the admittance coming easily in the darkness as the silence of the night surrounded them, “I wanted you to, I wanted you… I still want you.”

He hesitated, the guilt obvious in his voice when he spoke, “I shouldn’t want you.” A pregnant pause weighed between them as his admittance lingered in silent darkness, “But I do. I want you more than the air I need to breathe.”

Her breath hitched in her throat at his declaration, a flurry of excitement whooshing through her belly as she fought to contain her smile at his words, instead snuggling deeper into his embrace, “You want me?” She asked, trying and failing to keep the earnest hope from her voice as he sighed behind her.

“Evangeline...”

“You want me?” She asked again, turning her head to the side to try and catch a glimpse of him in the darkened room, trying to get a read on the emotions of the man behind her.

He shook his head in protest, nudging her own chin back forwards as he spoke once more, “You deserve so much better than -”

“But I want  _ you _ .” She whispered back defiantly as his arms tightened around her, as if he was preparing himself for the inevitable moment he’d be forced to let her go. The silence surrounded them once more as they lay there curled up together despite the storm still raging beyond the walls of the cottage. 

It wasn’t until Henry whimpered against her, curling closer to her chest, that he deigned to speak again, “He carries too much pain.” Antonin breathed against her neck, “He shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes.”

Evie’s chest clenched at the statement, recognizing just how much Antonin blamed himself for the horrors their son had been put through at Voldemort’s hands and knowing that there was nothing she could say to ease his guilt or pain, “There is nothing we can do to change the past.” She said softly, brushing her fingers across the little boy’s temple as he settled against her, “All we can do now is love him as fiercely as we can.”

It was several minutes before he spoke again, his voice low and broken as he whispered out the question that had been no doubt plaguing him from the moment he’d stepped foot in the house, “Why would he ever trust me after the horrors I’ve brought upon him?”

“I don’t know.” Evie admitted running a soothing hand across Henry’s back, as she took her time with his question, “Maybe because he knows that even with everything that he’s been through he knows that you would give your life to protect him. Maybe he just sees you for who you are.”

“And who am I?” 

She smiled to herself, ducking to press a kiss to Henry’s head as he let out a little huff of contentment and settled fully back into sleep, “A good man.”

“You know that that’s not true.” Antonin replied, dark humor lacing through his words as he tucked his chin into the curve of her neck, his voice ghosting past her ear as remorseful words were pulled from his lips, “I was his attack dog, his hunter, for fuck’s sake. I created most of the curses we threw at you.”

She turned slightly once more, angling to look up at him over her shoulder, gently nudging his own chin back as she sought out his gaze in the dim light of the still glowing embers, “Antonin, there’s nothing wrong with the darkness you carry. We all have a little bit buried within us. But I know with every ounce of my being that _you are_ _good_. You walk in the grey of magic for sure, but that doesn’t mean you’re evil. You made your choices and you accepted the consequences of those decisions.” She reached around to cup his cheek, ignoring the awkward twisting of her arm, “If anything, I trust you _more_ because of your darkness.”

He sighed against her, nudging her back to facing forwards as he buried his nose in her neck once more, her hand shifting to tangle through his dark waves, “You can’t mean that,  _ Kukolka _ .”

“I do,” She whispered back to him, running her thumb along his scalp in soothing circles as she spoke, “I know you’ll do whatever it takes to protect and love what’s yours. No matter the consequences. You don’t balance the goodness of your actions in regards to that. I’d trust you over a fully light wizard any day. I’d trust you over anyone.”

“Evie…” He groaned out, sounding every bit as pained as she knew him to be, leaving her wishing she could just take it all away, that she could shoulder it a while instead, “I don’t know how I could ever possibly deserve you.”

“Love and grace isn’t something people need to earn.” She told him, as he pressed his lips into the hollow below her ear, “You don’t need to deserve me, you have me regardless.”

He was silent for several minutes as her words washed over the both of them, “I’m sorry I left.” 

It was her turn to sigh, “I know.” She whispered back, “I’m sorry I yelled. I… I was worried. I was scared you weren’t coming back.”

He tucked her closer, holding her against him with another unspoken apology as he spoke, his hand coming to rest atop of her’s on Henry’s back, “I’ll never do that again, not like that. Not to you and Henry.”

She threaded her fingers through his own, giving them a gentle squeeze as she tried to reassure him, “It’s okay, love.”

“No, no it’s not.” He shook his head in disagreement, “I just… I needed to see Andromeda.” 

She perked up in surprise, “You went to see my mum?”

“We were friends, once upon a time.” He admitted, “Ted was -” He faltered, magic rolling off his body in waves as he struggled through the words he was trying to speak, “We were close. We were all close.”

“Why did you go?”

“To apologize for my role in her misery.”

She couldn’t stop the soft gasp that fell from her lips, “Antonin…”

“I’m surrounded by the people I’ve hurt. By the destruction I’ve caused.”

“You saved me.” She insisted.

“I nearly killed you.”

“But you didn’t.” She told him, “You didn’t kill me. Out of all the people not to survive that curse, I was the one who did. You’ve killed people, it was war, we all did. But you didn’t kill me, Antonin. We’re both still here.”

He didn’t speak after that, electing just to pull her closer to him and bury his head once more in the curve of her neck as both of their breathes began to slow and sleep claimed them once more, the three of them curled up on the couch as the silence of the sleeping world surrounded them. 

***

The next time she awoke was to the creaking sound of the kitchen door opening and the worried calls of Thorfinn and Charlie. Henry rose quickly at the sound of them, all but jumping out of her arms and running to meet them with a delighted squeal, leaving Antonin and Evie to face the consequences of their actions. She unwound herself slowly from his arms, moving gently away from him despite the lingering and possessive touch he held on her hips, all but inviting her to forget the rest of the world for a while. 

But there was no ignoring the two men stumbling through her kitchen, heading their way.

“What the fuck is this!?!” Came the exclamation from Charlie as he walked in from the kitchen, his eyes going wide at the sight of them, reminding her that he didn’t know. That she hadn’t told either of them of the man’s innocence. The man who she was currently wrapped up in looking every bit as loving and domestic as one could, all tousled and sleepy waking from a night spent curled up together.

“Charlie -” She pleaded, jumping to her feet and all but praying that Thorfinn would remain in the kitchen, that he wouldn’t come to see what all the yelling was about. That he wouldn’t -

“What the actual fuck, Evie!” Came the blond man’s shout as he stepped into the room, pulling Henry down from his shoulders, setting him back on the floor as his gaze turned to ice. The tension in the room rose to explosive levels as the four of them stood frozen in place. 

“For fuck’s sake.” Came Antonin’s response, sounding almost bored with the proceedings. She knew better though, knew that he was seconds away from killing the two men with just the flick of his fingers. 

“Shut up, Antonin.” She spat at the man, turning back to face Charlie and Thorfinn whose surprise was the only thing keeping them from launching into a full-on duel, “It’s not what you think!” She told them, her anxiety rising as the men “It's not what it looks like!” 

“It looks like you're curled up with the Death Eater that killed your parents!” Charlie shouted back, causing Henry to run to hide behind her legs, his shaking form wrapped around her reminding her of all the reasons not to let it devolve anymore. 

“Watch it, Weasley.” Came Antonin’s growl, rising slowly to his feet with the calculated fury of a panther about to pounce, his hand heavy on the small of her back as he faced off the two angry wizards, almost daring them to act on their unspoken threats.

Thorfinn’s wand was out in a moment, brandished at the dark-haired Russian as Charlie followed suit, his own wand trained on the man who stepped protectively in front of her, ignoring her shouted pleas and clawing at his arm to pull him back, “What spell did you put her under, you bastard?!” Thorfinn yelled at him, his own fury matching Charlie’s as Antonin stood before her, rising up to face the man who dared to aim a wand in his direction.

“Put it away.” Antonin snarled at the two of them, stepping completely in front of Evie as she tried desperately to diffuse the tension. Her voice drowned out in their own chaotic shouts of anger and confusion.

“Stop! I’m not under any spell.” She pleaded with the men who were like her brothers, desperately and to no avail, their angry tirade continuing to drown her out as she turned to crouch before her son, hating herself for the way his lip wobbled with anxiety, wishing against all hope that she could just go back in time to restart the morning, “Henry, baby, can you go upstairs and play for a minute please.” She asked him frantically, not wanting him to witness the explosion she knew was coming.

“No… Mummy…” He whimpered, on the verge of tears himself as he reached for her, the tension in the room was no doubt scaring him and she gathered him up into her arms, lost as to what she could possibly do to fix this. 

She stood back to her feet with Henry curled against her, shaking in her arms as she swiped her wand from the table, disarming all three men with a silent flash of magic before they could kill each other, effectively silencing the three of them as they turned to her in shock.

“Give me my wand, Evie!” Thorfinn roared, his rage palpable as magic crackled furiously around him, warning of a fiery explosion yet to come. Charlie ground out an agreement, his eyes flaming with a silent, protective fury that matched the blond man’s next to her. 

“I’m not going to let you kill him!” She shouted at the men, losing every ounce of her composure as Henry clawed at her neck trying to bury himself against her at the sound of chaos erupting from the room.

“I don’t need my wand to do that!” Thorfinn shot back, moving across the room in two large steps to slam his fist into the side of Antonin’s jaw, eliciting a sickening crunch of bone as he no doubt broke the bone. Antonin moved to retaliate, his own hands rising to kill the man and she panicked, doing the only thing she knew to do, shoving Henry into his father’s arms and ramming her own fist into Thorfinn’s nose, breaking it with another sickening crunch as he staggered backwards from the blow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBH I didn't know she was going to end up decking him until I wrote it. Let me know what you think below and your theories on the history between Antonin and Thorfinn (P.S. - answers are coming next week)
> 
> I know this week was very fluffy with some angst thrown in there for good measure but I needed a good pick-me-up and am in desperate need of snuggles myself. On a completely different note, why is dating is hard? Why can't it just be like "okay we're a couple now and you need to cuddle me" I mean seriously, I'm such a physical touch person and I'm definitely feeling the lonesome blues with this quarantine (I'm in one of the states & counties where cases are SOARING so we've still got to be really careful). 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you are all staying safe out there and are enjoying this story. You guys really are a bright spot in this rapidly crumbling world and I love y'all so much. 
> 
> All my love, Alison


	21. As A Friend, As A Friend, As An Old Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie to y'all, I'm full on jamming to Bob Seger right now and am loving every minute of it. Gosh, the current song makes me wanna kidnap some friends and go on a midnight adventure with the windows down and the stereo on full blast. Is it just me or are there songs out there that are just like summer personified? 
> 
> Anyways, this chapter's a mess but I still kind of love it. Per usual, I own nothing. If I did I wouldn't be sitting in front of a fan in the dark with the AC on high trying to survive the heat & humidity that the south is fucking famous for. What I would give to be on a beach in southern California right now... 
> 
> That being said, this entire thing might be a hallucination brought on by the hellscape that is the outside world right now so I refuse to take responsibility for it. Aphrodite, forgive me.

Thorfinn collapsed onto the couch with a thud, cradling his nose as he tried desperately to stem the flow, “Fuck, Evie!” He shouted and she winced at the sound. While it might have seemed like a good idea at the time, the aftermath of her own punch proved otherwise. Thorfinn was groaning in pain as blood poured from his nose, Charlie was looking just as angry as he had been previously, though he seemed unsurprised by her own addition to the fight, and Antonin was clutching his jaw while Henry shrieked in alarm behind her. 

_ Henry. _

She whipped around to face Antonin, wincing at the sight of Antonin’s rapidly swelling jaw and her son’s tears but refusing to let him witness any more, “Take Henry upstairs, please.” The former Death Eater made a move to protest, stepping up to her with his own eyes filled with concern, “Antonin, please.” A beat passed. Then another as understanding passed between them, and he turned to carry Henry swiftly up the stairs, his low voice carrying through the house as he tried to comfort the crying child.

“You just broke my nose!” Thorfinn hissed at her in surprise as Charlie disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve a cool rag for Thorfinn’s nose. Unsurprisingly, the former Death Eater looked more proud than angry as she turned to face him, stalking towards his position on the couch with her finger raised in warning. 

“Now you listen here, Thorfinn Alarik Rowle.” She snarled at the man who was brother in everything but name and blood, wincing at the sound of Henry’s cries coming from the upstairs hall and Antonin’s quiet but increasingly desperate reassuarances, “He didn’t kill my parents and I’m not under any fucking spell!” She shot a look to Charlie who was still standing quietly, observing the scene before him as she chewed the both of them out, “Now if you’re quite done trying to kill each other, sit still so I can heal you and we can talk about this like civilized human beings!”

Thorfinn dropped his hand from where he cradled his mangled and bloodied nose, “You know?” He asked, staring at her in absolute shock as dark blood dripped onto his lips.

“You know!?” She screeched, her shout igniting further cries from Henry upstairs who started calling for her with renewed vigor, breaking her heart further as she stared at the man before her in her own version of shock.

“Of course I fucking know!” He shouted, rising from the couch as anger rolled off of him in waves, leaving the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention as he continued on, “That the man I swore my fealty to was responsible! I lost it Evie. I fucking lost it!”

“When were you going to tell me?” She gaped at him, faltering slightly as she tried to wrap her mind around his proclamation. 

“When were you going to tell  _ me _ ?” He shot back, hurt shining in his own eyes, no doubt thinking that he was the last one to know. That he hadn’t been trusted enough to be told the secret. It broke her heart further to see the pain churning within the depths of his soul. 

“Does anyone want to clue me in to exactly what you two are shouting about?” Charlie finally asked, his angry exclamation taking them both by surprise as he stepped back into the room and shoved the damp cloth in Thor’s direction. 

Thorfinn whipped around to face him, confusion in his eyes as he moved to hold the cloth to his nose, trying to stem the blood that continued to gush from the injury, “You  _ didn’t _ know?” 

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to know!” Charlie huffed, “I know you two have always had your secrets, and I’m more than okay with that, but this isn’t exactly -”

Evie turned back to Thorfinn, cutting off Charlie’s protest with a question of her own, “Wait, how did you know?”

He gestured towards the stairs, “He told me!” 

Understanding crashed down on her, “Then why the fuck did you deck him?”

“He was taking advantage of you!” Thorfinn shouted back at her, his growing temper matching her own as he stood to face her.

“Like hell he was!” She spat, shoving at him in defiance

He glowered down at her, “Evie, you’re not thinking -”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Thorfinn.” She shoved at his chest again as the unspoken threat passed between them, “I’m thinking quite clearly, thank you!”

“Evie -”

She smacked his chest, effectively halting his ridiculous and sexist tirade, “I am a grown ass woman, if I want to sleep with Antonin fucking Dolohov, I bloody well can!” She yelled at him, recognizing the volume of her voice and doing her best not to blush at the gravity of the declaration, “I’m not a child and I’m not your ward! Despite your over-protective big brother tendencies, I can actually take care of myself.” She shoved him towards the couch as she continued, “Now we’re going to sit down, I’m going to heal that, and you're going to tell me exactly how much you know!”

“Is anyone going to clue me in to exactly what we’re talking about?” Charlie asked, his own quiet frustration paling in comparison to Thorfinn's explosive rage, a trait that have served them all well over the years, “Or are you two just going to keep on talking like I’m not here?”

“Albus Dumbledore killed my parents.” She admitted in a rush of anxious words, trying desperately to hold herself together as she watched the flashes of disbelief, betrayal, and anger pass over his features, “Not Antonin. Not Bella. Dumbledore.”

There was a great sigh from the stairs, dragging all of their attention back to the man in question, standing at the foot of the stairs with Henry sniffling at his shoulder reaching desperately for Evie, “Well let’s just tell the world, why don’t we?” The ex-Death Eater stated, seeingly resigned to the notion, though the fire in his eyes spoke more than the words he spoke. 

Evie’s heart ached to comfort her child, moving to gather him back into her arms before she even realized what she was doing, “Antonin, I told you -”

“He needs him mum, love. He needs to know that you’re okay.” Antonin told her gently as he shifted Henry out of his own embrace, moving to swipe a tear from her cheek as he went, “I’ll heal up Rowle while you get him settled.” 

“What about you?” She asked, her eyes falling to his own mangled jaw as she accepted Henry into her arms and pulled his favorite blanket up around him, cuddling him to her as he sobbed against her chest, his little back heaving with the effort as she tried desperately to soothe him.

“It’s nothing he hasn’t done a million times before.” He assured her with a sigh, gathering her into his arms and pressing a reassuring kiss into her temple before pulling his wand from her back pocket before crossing the room to stand in front of Thorfinn, who looked perfectly at ease with his approach, “You ready?” He asked the man with a strange sense of familiarity, a far cry from the explosive animosity that had filled the air between them just moments before.

“Let’s get it over with.” He grunted and he steeled himself as Antonin aimed his wand at Thorfinn's nose, fixing it with a muttered snap and a groan of pain from the man sitting on the couch as blood flowed once more from his nostrils. 

“Fuck, that hurts.” Thorfinn cursed, reaching for a tissue to stem the flow before standing up and switching positions with Antonin, “This won’t be as gentle.”

“I’m well aware.”Antonin grimaced, rolling his shoulders quickly in anticipation of the coming pain, “It’s not the first time you’ve broken my jaw.”

“And probably not the last either,” Thorfinn agreed with a hardened chuckle, “Evie, my wand please?”

She stared back at the two of them, she knew Antonin had said he trusted the man, but she could hardly process the scene before her. Charlie seemed to be in a similar boat, as he was still standing half-frozen in the middle of the living room with his mouth ajar, no doubt processing the influx of information that had just been dropped on him.

“Evie…” Thorfinn prompted again, shooting her a quizzical look and pulling her out of her befuddlement, “My wand?”

She shook off all of her questions and crossed the room to hand him his wand, shifting an exhausted Henry up higher on her hip before sinking down onto the couch beside Antonin. Though the little boy had been up with the sun, she could see how the early morning excitement had gotten to him. He was still shaken up, as obvious by his vice-like grip around her neck and his general refusal to be anywhere but in her arms, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before he was curled up asleep against her shoulder. His eyelids were already fluttering with exhaustion as she moved a soothing hand through his curls, her own gaze moving back to Antonin in front of her. 

He was staring at Thorfinn in stubborn determination, his brows furrowed slightly as he waited for the inevitable pain of healing. She reached for his hand without even thinking, drawing his attention back to her and the worry that was no-doubt shining in her eyes. 

He offered her a knowing smirk, one that pulled at the dimple in his cheek and stole the breath from her lungs, “It’s nothing we haven’t done before,  _ Kukolka. _ ” He assured her with a chuckle of his own but held onto her hand anyway, threading his fingers in with hers as Thorfinn angled his wand at the rapidly-darkening skin at his jaw. 

The room was silent as he murmured the spell and the sound of bone cracking back into place was heard throughout the room. 

A choked “Fuck.” was the only outward sign of pain he gave and it made Evie’s heart hurt a little more thinking about how badly someone had to be hurt in their lifetime to not even flinch at the obvious pain of fixing such an injury. 

“You’re still terrible at that.” He grumbled to Thorfinn, before releasing her hand and standing swiftly to his feet, “I need a drink.”

Thorfinn snorted, following him back towards the kitchen, “It’s not even nine in the morning.”

“Which is why I’ll settle for coffee.” Antonin shot back, “And maybe some breakfast.”

“Well that was…” Charlie finally spoke, staring after the two of them incredulously as Evie offered him the barest smile she could muster, motioning for him to join her on the couch.

“Yeah…” Evie agreed leaning into him as he claimed the spot next to her, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” She whispered to the man who’d quickly become her brother, despite his own house full of siblings.

He sighed, “It’s okay, Evie. I understand why you’d be careful about letting the secret out.” He paused tension filling the space between his eyebrows as he watched her carefully, “Does Dora know?”

It was Evie’s turn to sigh, “I haven’t told her yet, but I think she has her suspicions.” She admitted to her redheaded best friend, “She’s nothing if not perceptive.”

“No one can keep a secret from her.” He agreed with a sad smile, though hesitation still lingered in the depths of his gaze, “Have you told Andy?”

She sobered further, his question lighting a fire of anxiety in her own belly, “I don’t know how.” She said, breaking from his line of sight to press a soft kiss into Henry’s hair before continuing, “Thinking Aunt Bella killed my mum is what really tore the family apart. I don’t know how to tell her it was all a lie. That she didn’t do it.”

She’d heard the stories, she’d heard how her mother’s death had been the final blow to the Black family tree. With Andy and Sirius already estranged from the rest of them, the final family meeting had been a powder keg just waiting to explode. It wasn’t until she’d gotten drunk with Sirius one night that she’d found out just how much Calliope’s death had broken their family. How Bella’s betrayal had ruined any chance of them returning to something that had even resembled a family. 

“Didn’t she claim responsibility for it though?” Charlie asked quietly, pulling her out of her own thoughts as the smell of bacon frying and coffee brewing wafted into the room. 

Evie paused, thinking back to everything she knew of her parents’ deaths, everything she’d learned over the years, “I think so, but I don't really know.” No one had liked to speak of it, the taboo subject of family killing family. Of sisters killing sisters. It had taken years for her to even get Andy to speak of her family, yet alone of Aunt Bella’s betrayal. 

Charlie nodded, understanding exactly what she’d meant by it. He’d been one of the few to understand her wanting to know more. To understand the need to know about the family she’d lost on the night Dumbledore killed her family, “So are we going to talk about it?”

She paled, thinking he wanted to speak of the dead professor who still haunted her nightmares, “About what?” She asked, trying to convey every reason not to discuss the manipulative old man. 

Charlie smiled sadly at her obvious hesitation and nodded towards the kitchen, “Him.”

She let out the breath she had been holding, “No.”

“Okay.” He replied with a knowing smirk, content to let her keep her secrets a while longer, “Will you at least answer me one thing?”

She nodded, “Sure.”

He cocked his head slightly to the side, studying her intently before voicing the question that had been rolling around in his head, “Are you sure about him?”

She smiled up at her friend, “More than anything.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer, “I just want you to be happy, Evie.”

“I know you do, Charlie.” She replied, snuggling closer to him on the couch, “I just want you to be happy too.” She turned to look up at him, her eyebrows furrowing with her own question, “Are you?”

He glanced back towards the kitchen where the muffled sound of banging of pots were drifting lazily through the doorway. He turned back to her with a smile, repeating her words back to her, “More than I’ve been in a long time.”

She didn’t say anything in response, content just to enjoy the peaceful morning that had stemmed from the earlier chaos. When Thor and Antonin presented them with something that resembled breakfast a little while later, the four of them sat across from each other at the cozy little kitchen table and ate the meal together while Henry slept soundly against her shoulder. She watched with barely contained joy from her spot beside Antonin as Thorfinn and Charlie interacted with all the love and affection they’d been hiding since childhood. Seeing that they were finally comfortable in their love for each other, set her own soul on fire with love for the two men she considered brothers. 

When Thorfinn and Charlie disapparated back to London a little while later, wary at the sight of another oncoming storm, she couldn’t help but to chuckle at Henry’s little pout in seeing them go, the fearfulness from earlier was long gone as he tried to convince them to stay and play with him. The little boy was clearly already going a little stir crazy with the winter storms and sulked for a good twenty minutes after their departure before Antonin managed to lure him into the downstairs playroom with promises of Quidditch and crafts. He’d perked up fairly quickly after that, content to crash the figurines together in a brutal game of quidditch over the new mat he’d gotten for Christmas. 

Evie watched the two of them with a full heart, trying and failing to focus on the book in front of her as Antonin indulged their son’s competitive streak and let him wear himself out with all kinds of games and activities as the morning went on. It was heartbreaking thinking of how much the man had missed during his stay in Azkaban and Evie’s heart clenched with emotion every time Henry called him ‘Daddy’. 

It wasn’t long before they had pulled her into their fun and the three of them spent the remainder of the morning playing games like duck duck goose and hide and seek, with Henry’s delighted peels of laughter tearing through the cottage with vigour while the second snowstorm of the week continued raging on outside.

But when Henry decided he was the seeker and sent Antonin and herself off to hide in the house somewhere, Evie was not prepared to be shoved into the upstairs hall closet by the man who’d spent the better part of the morning playing childish games. 

His hands were upon her the moment the door shut behind them, locking them in darkness as he slammed her up against the wall, his hands yanking her hips possessively to his own, pulling a yearning moan from her throat at the feeling of their connection.

“Silence, Evangeline.” He growled against the shell of her ear, eliciting a whimper from her despite the warning as he grasped the lobe between his teeth only releasing it to repeat the order, “The louder you are, the quicker he’ll find us. And I want  _ time _ .” 

He didn’t offer her a moment’s response before moving his mouth to her throat, rolling the sensitive muscle between his teeth as she fought to stay quiet despite the rough hands gripping at her arse and the hard length pressing against her core, the thick denim doing little to disguise his own need as he lifted her swiftly from the floor, inviting her to wrap her legs around the man in astonishing repetition of the previous night. 

She struggled to contain her heady gasp as he slid his tongue back up the length of her neck before moving to finally cover her mouth with his own, muffling the groan of surprise when he bucked his hips against her, giving her a taste of the delicious friction she desired and swallowing down the moans that fought for their own release. 

He ground his clothed erection against her, eliciting another needy whimper from her throat as he pulled her away from the wall, unwinding her ankles from their spot wrapped around his waist and dropping her feet back to the floor. 

She stared back at him in the dim light of the little closet, the confusion and hurt of the previous night washing over her once more as he hovered over her in the enclosed space without a word.

“Anto-” She was cut off by his hands spinning her around and pressing her once more into the wall as he pulled her back flush against him, her arse pressing into his rigid hardness as his hands moved to explore her body as if it was a delicacy offered to the gods themselves. They trailed upwards beneath her thick jumper to cup her barely covered breasts, earning another needy whimper to tear from her throat as he ran his thumbs against the taut nipples, teasing the puckered buds through the thin lace of her bra. 

“Perfect.” Came his murmured declaration as he squeezed the heavy globes between his fingers, before dropping them unexpectedly to the gasped surprise of the woman in his arms. She was putty in his palms, keening for his touch as she arched outwards towards the hands that had left her body so abruptly. 

He returned back to her with a vengeance, moving to wrap his hand around her neck and hold her hostage against his shoulder as the other moved against her belly, pressing into the little sliver of exposed skin between her sweatpants and jumper, teasing her with his lingering presence there, “Am I leaving you wanting,  _ Kukolka _ ?” He mused, his voice low and dark against the skin of her neck.

She ground her arse against him in retaliation, desperate for the friction she so desired and whimpering at the teasing grip he held on her neck, not restricting her air or her life just holding her to him with the unwavering sense of control that radiated off of him in battle. She’d seen it before, the commanding presence he had over a room, the control he exerted over those he deemed worthy of his attention. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t pushing her right up to her limits of arousal, igniting a burning heat of wanting within her bones as he held her daringly at the precipice once more. 

It was her needy moan that propelled him forward, sliding his questing fingers beneath the waistband of her lounge pants and towards the crux of her body, sliding against the delicate lace of her knickers as he pulled her harder against him, while pressing her savagely into the wall in front of them. She whimpered as he pinched her little bud between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand moving to cover the noise as he twisted it between his fingers before moving to slide his other fingers daringly through her slick.

“Perfect.” He breathed against her temple, repeating his earlier declaration as he manipulated her body like clay in his hands, muffling the moans that tore from her lips as he pushed her daringly towards the point of no return with the building momentum of his questing fingers, playing her quim with the expertise of a master as he propelled her closer and closer to the crest of her arousal.

“Don’t you dare come.” He growled, sinking his teeth once more into the skin of her neck, marking her again as his fingers continued their mesmerizing dance against her center, pulling more desperate whimpers from her lips as she approached the peak looming in the distance. Just a hair out of reach. 

She was so close,  _ so fucking close _ , as he ground his erection against her arse once more, pushing her right up to the edge as she fought desperately to keep the inevitable orgasm at bay. She was all but about to admit defeat as he suddenly pulled away, leaving her standing dazed in the dark little room as he quickly stepped away from her, her mind grasping for purchase on reality as the door whipped open to reveal a beaming Henry. 

“Found you!” He exclaimed excitedly, forcing Evie out of her hazy arousal like a bucket of ice water had been dumped down her back as he reached for her hand and tugged her out of the closet, oblivious to the scene he’d almost stumbled upon. “Is it lunch yet?”

It was Antonin’s dark chuckle that pulled her attention back to the man who’d cornered her in a dark little room, his knowing smirk sending renewed shivers down her spine as he addressed his son with smug confidence, “Lunch sounds perfect. What are you hungry for, kiddo?”

“Strawberries.” Henry decided with an excited smile, already moving back down the hall towards the stairs and the kitchen, expecting the two adults to follow him down.

“As tempted as I am to finish what we started, ” Came Antonin’s low drawl, too quiet for anyone but the two of them to hear, and her mouth went dry as she watched him drag his fingers through his lips, pulling every last drop of her essence from his digits one by one before cleaning them with a wandless charm and offering her his arm to escort her down the stairs like he hadn’t just been fingering her in a closet moments before, “But we’ve got a kid to feed.”

She narrowed her eyes but accepted the gesture, all but swearing vengeance on the ex-Death Eater as they moved to the kitchen. 

It wasn’t until much later in the day when Evie finally got the answers she sought. The sun had long since set beneath the horizon, despite the raging blizzard beyond their windows, and Henry was curled up asleep against Evie’s chest. With his thumb popped in his mouth and his favorite teddy clutched in his arms, Henry looked to be the very image of childhood innocence despite all the pain and despair his life had already held. 

Antonin had disappeared into the bathroom soon after he had fallen asleep, leaving Evie with the silence of the room and her own thoughts as she rolled the questions around in her mind, replaying the events of the morning as she waited for his return, slowly sinking deeper and deeper into slumber as the minutes ticked past. 

When the mattress dipped with his weight a little while later, rousing her from the half asleep state she’d found herself in, she couldn’t help the little sigh that escaped her lips as he curled himself around her, moulding her back to his chest as the spicy scent of his aftershave teased her senses. 

“You’ve got questions.” Came his quiet statement against the skin of her neck, the rumble of words sending tingles down her spine as he nipped gently at the spot where he’d already marked her twice in the past twenty-four hours.

She nodded, rolling to her back to face him with Henry still curled against her chest, watching as Antonin moved to sweep his fingers gently through Henry’s curls. He pressed a kiss to his son’s temple before looking back up to meet her own gaze, sighing, “I saved his life.” 

It took her a moment to understand his meaning before understanding dawned on her, “Thor’s?”

It was his turn to nod, “We’d been partnered up for a while by that point. Snape and I had always had a close working relationship, him with new potions and me with new spells, and Thorfinn had come aboard as his recruit. The Dark Lord seemed to take particular pleasure in placing his followers in the most uncomfortable positions he could think of. He didn’t trust Rowle and Rowle still hated me. But he couldn’t blow his cover.”

“You knew?” She stared up at him in question, though she couldn’t say she was surprised that he had been the one to figure it out. Slowly more and more pieces of the war clicked firmly into place, light shining brightly on the edges previously locked in darkness and shrouded in secrecy.

Antonin snorted a laugh, clearly trying to lighten the tone of conversation that surrounded them. To distance the two of them from the long war they’d all spent the majority of their lives fighting in, “Of course I fucking knew.” He told her, tucking her closer to him, “Even if he was a master Occlumens, the kid still wore his heart on his sleeve. Nearly got him killed more times than I could count.”

He paused, the memories of all of the close calls shining in the depths of his blue eyes in the lamplight, “By the time the tournament rolled around, we all knew he was back. Thorfinn had, by that point, already integrated himself into the circle and it was simply a matter of time before he was marked.” He grimaced at that, his fingers tightening around her waist as if reaffirming to himself that she was there, that it was over, that they were finally safe, “And when he finally was, The Dark Lord didn’t hesitate to toss him to the wolves, oftentimes literally. As sadistic as Voldemort was, he wasn’t anything compared to the brutality of Greyback. Anyways, he paired the two of us up for missions since we’d already proved to make a good team and when Thorfinn couldn’t follow through, I did it for him.”

“You…” She faltered, her mind struggling to grasp the words he spoke, “Why?”

He pushed a stray curl from her cheek, his thumb lingering on skin there as he spoke, “Didn’t take a genius to figure out how much he meant to you. Or you to him.”

Evie tried to speak, to thank him for protecting the man she called her brother, “Antonin…”

He shook his head, silencing her gratitude as he continued, obviously not thinking himself deserving of the praise,“He figured it out pretty quickly after that.” He told her quietly, his thumb moving down to brush across her lips as he spoke, “And suddenly we were stuck holding the weight of each other's secrets. He became the only person I knew I could trust and I became the same to him, even if it was only the mutually assured destruction that kept us alive. And years later, when Henry was dropped on my doorstep hours after his birth, Thorfinn was there. And despite the chaos and the betrayal and the wickedness of the war that surrounded us, I knew that if it came down to it, he would give his life if it meant saving Henry’s.”

“I didn’t know.” She offered, not quite finding the words to express all of the thoughts and questions and declarations that were rampaging through her brain.

He chuckled, pulling her closer despite the child that had shifted to lay between them, “You weren't supposed to.” He told her with a bitter sort of laugh, “No one was supposed to ever know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that escalated quickly.
> 
> I honestly don't know if it was too quick or not, it's been so long since I've had a good fuck that I think I've forgotten how to function as a human being. Granted, most of the guys I know (not that I've slept with them all, though so what if I have? It's my fucking body) still haven't worked out that vaginas aren't just a replacement for their hands so I really don't think I'm missing too much. Honestly though, how hard can it be to find a guy who knows what he wants and is actually GOOD in bed? 
> 
> Anyways, enough about my non-existent sex life. Let me know what you think and stay SAFE OUT THERE! Also know that this is as far as I've currently written, so IDK what's gonna happen next week. I've really been struggling to find the drive and inspiration to write lately. That being said, I've linked some fics below that you should totally check out in the meantime. 
> 
> Sugar And Spice (by InLoveWithForver): A Triad Fic starring Hermione, Theo, and Draco that's simply wonderful and ridiculously long. I'm rereading this for the second time because it's just so delightful that I needed a second (and probably a third too) helping of all the smutty deliciousness. Seriously, check this one out. You won't regret it.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820299/chapters/39482584
> 
> The Problem With Purity (by phoenix_writing): This one is totally unique and utterly brilliant and I tore through it one sitting because it was just so easy to get lost in. The main pairing is Severus x Hermione (which I'm a total sucker for) with background HarryxDraco and it's WONDERFUL. I've truly never read anything like it before and the concept is just so fresh and original that I want to cry.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21901309/chapters/52274464
> 
> Tango (by Desert_Sea): I should probably warn you that this smutty deliciousness is packing some SERIOUS heat. Like be ready for a cold shower. What is it about Severus Snape that just lights my fucking soul on fire? Anyways, find a dark secluded spot somewhere you won't be interrupted and give this one a whirl. You can thank me later.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304437/chapters/16590349
> 
> Firewhiskey Nights (by Kittenshift17): Thorfinn Rowle could murder me and I'd probably thank him. Seriously, just... fuck man. Anyways, this is a Thorfinn x Hermione fic that's still a WIP but is totally worth the read. Really though, give anything by Kittenshift17 a read, she's seriously good. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/13864656/chapters/31893999
> 
> How To Win Friends And Influence People (by olivieblake): I will NEVER stop singing her praises, olivieblake has such fucking talent you can't help but be enraptured by ever single word she writes. This is another Dramione fic but it is seriously (SERIOUSLY) worth the read. Like I've always been a sucker for Slytherin-centric shenanigans and this one truly takes the cake. Really though, if I could only read work by two fanfic authors for the rest of my life it'd be olivieblake and EliMorgan. Like fuck man, they just wreck me.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/11208228/chapters/25035075
> 
> Apples And Oranges (by EliMorgan): Speaking of my two favorite fanfic authors, I just discovered this fic the other day and I devoured it like a woman starved in the middle of the afternoon. It's a Fenrir x Hermione which I've just recently come to love and it's simply wonderful. It's a WIP but it's definitely worth the read anyways. Seriously though, anything by EliMorgan is utter perfection and I could read her work over and over again and never get tired of it. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024377/chapters/34829630
> 
> A Complete Education (by Andante825): A little one shot of the professors having to teach sex ed. I haven't laughed this hard since before Friends was removed from Netflix (those fuckers!). Give it a chance and try not to wake your family/roommates/neighbors as you cackle with glee.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/12705891
> 
> Grade A American Beef (by a caseofthemondays): Okay so this is NOT an HP fic but fuck if you don't love it as much as I do. It's Darcy Lewis x Bucky Barnes and as someone who ships both of them with literally anyone (and has read enough pairings to fill a fucking library), hear me when I tell you that this one is fucking brilliant. Like fuck, it's just perfection. Brb, I'm gonna go reread it for like the millionth time now. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276592/chapters/32929938
> 
> I'll catch you fuckers on the flip side.


	22. Forgive Us Now For What We’ve Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late and a dollar short, but hey, that's par for the course with me. 
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did, I'd be a member of Taylor Swift's girl gang. 
> 
> Per usual this is not beta'd. 
> 
> P.S. this is a super duper short author's not cause I've been awake for way too long and am falling asleep at my desk as we speak.

Evie watched from the kitchen window as Antonin trudged through the heavy snow surrounding the house, strengthening the wards as Henry trailed behind him dragging an old sled they’d found in the shed. There was no doubt in her mind that the little boy was asking his father a million questions as the man poured a series of complicated spells and incantations into the invisible boundaries. And given Antonin’s indulgent smile between bouts of intense concentration, she was sure he was taking the time to answer each and every one. 

He’d been at it since just after breakfast, reinforcing the already substantial wards that stood to protect them, a hold out from the days of the little stone cottage belonging to her great-grandfather, a notoriously dark and paranoid wizard who would have stopped at nothing to protect his family and their interests. 

It was almost fitting that Antonin was the one building them up further, with his mile-long protective streak and his own brand of darkness. Not that Evie could blame him. With the arrival of the morning’s paper, it had only been a matter of time before he worked himself into a tizzy trying to protect them. Even just the thought of Rita’s article set her teeth on edge and pushed her heart into overdrive, beating intensely against her ribcage at the very thought of the blowback that was sure to come from the general public. 

***

_ Earlier That Morning _

She sucked in a sharp breath of air when Antonin slid her the Prophet over breakfast, almost expecting the headline that was splashed across the front page in bold black ink.

**DEATH EATERS RELEASED**

_ By Rita Skeeter _

_ Well, dear reader, it seems that our Minister for Magic has done it again. Putting our life and liberty in danger by releasing a prison full of murderers, torturers, terrorists, and war criminals back into the streets and calling it an effort to “rebuild the magical community”. While past support for the current Minister has seemed overwhelmingly positive in the years following The Final Battle (For more insight into the terrible war against he-who-must-not-be-named and explosive secrets of the elusive Order of The Phoenix, purchase Rita Skeeter’s new book, The War & It’s Heroes) there are now mass uprisings in the street calling for his head. I, of course, wouldn’t be surprised if he’s forced out of office by the end of the week. _

_ But, dear reader, that is old news at this point. What’s truly concerning is  _ **_who_ ** _ has been granted their freedom. Not taking into account the disastrous release of Thorfinn Rowle just a few weeks back, there have been a total of fifteen Death Eaters released back into our precious community. But out of those fifteen dark wizards and witches (and the many more hardened criminals released back into the public just a few days ago) none is more concerning than Antonin Dolohov himself.  _

_ Torturer. Sadist. Arsonist. Mad Genius. Murderer. Right Hand of The Dark Lord Himself. These are all words that can be used to describe the monster who has been released back into the fold of the Wizarding World. The monster who continues to threaten our very existence. How can we know that he won’t bring about the rise of another Dark Lord more heinous than before? How do we know this isn’t a plot set in motion by the Minister himself in hopes of igniting further tensions between the light and the dark? How can he trust that he won’t murder our children in their sleep just becasue he can?  _

_ But most importantly, dear reader, how can we trust a word Minister Shacklebolt tells us? How can we believe a man who seems to be conspiring with the dark forces we worked so tirelessly to defeat. After all, my sources tell me that the minister’s own goddaughter, Evangeline Rosier, has been seen frequenting the convicted murderer’s cell on a great many occasions before his release. Is she too in on this plot for world domination? Or has she been, perhaps, imperiused into visiting her parents’ murderer as another temptation for the notorious Dark Wizard to ruin.  _

_ I’m afraid I don't have any more answers to offer you at the moment. Though I do suggest you lock up your wives and your children until this cold-blooded killer is at least six feet under the earth we walk on. Who knows what kind of crimes and offences he could commit now that he has been given the freedom and the power to do so. But until we know for sure, I will be right here, writing out the truth to the people who need to hear it the most.  _

Evie slammed the paper down on the table as soon as she’d read the last slanderous word, conjuring up a flame to destroy it as both Henry and Antonin watched her with delight. Though they’d all known it was coming, Rita Skeeter still managed to steal the wind from her lungs with her quick wit and lascivious lies. If she wasn’t careful, the woman would end up as nothing more than the bug squashed beneath her heel. 

“I take it you didn’t like the article?” Antonin quipped over the lip of his coffee mug, earning himself a glare despite the teasing tone in his voice.

Evie swallowed back her own retort, trying to calm the anger that threatened to overtake her and instead smiled sweetly back at the man across the table, busying herself with fixing her own tea as she spoke, “I would love nothing more than to destroy her, but Hermione’s already called dibs.” Evie replied with a grimace, ignoring the snort of approval from the man sitting across from her, clearly understanding why the younger woman had claimed the job, “Fucking animagus bitch.” She muttered under her breath, resulting in the choked sound that tore from Antonin’s throat and the excited squeak that came from Henry’s.

“Jar, Mummy.” Henry reminded her with a delighted smirk of his own, one that was eerily similar to his father’s, though his growing mischievousness was much more reminiscent of her own childhood. A fact she couldn’t help but be both proud and terrified of. 

“You got me, love.” She congratulated him with a grin of her own, inwardly scolding herself for the slip as she summoned a galleon for the jar that rested atop the counter, a Christmas gift from Molly that had already done more than enough damage to their wallets. If Henry wasn’t completely enamoured with it, deciding he was going to save up to buy himself tickets to The World Cup, Evie would have hidden it away in the attic first chance she’d gotten. Nevermind the fact that the kid had already been promised season tickets with Thorfinn and had successfully manipulated Charlie into bringing him to the Championship match at Hogwarts in the spring. He was going to be giving them a run for their money as he got older, that was for sure.

“She’s an illegal animagus?” Antonin asked, eyebrow raised in question as he pulled her back to the conversation.

“Are you really so surprised?” She asked with a huff, shoving her spoon into her oats with a vengeance, ignoring the way Antonin studied her with curious eyes, “She had no right to write that article.”

She had no right to drag his name through the mud any more than the wizarding world already had. She had no right to insinuate corruption in her trips to the prison. She had no right to say that Kingsley was working as anything but a hero for the light. If there was anything Evie couldn’t stand for it was people attacking her family.

“She had every right.” He said though there was a hardness in his voice as he spoke, an edge that seemed right at home with the icy landscape beyond the kitchen windows. “We both knew this was coming,  _ Kukolka _ .”

Evie shook off his reassurances, leveling him with a spiteful glare as she argued back, “She can’t just -”

“Evie, it’s okay. I’m more than familiar with her tactics.” He interrupted her furious tirade, “What’s not okay is how this will affect you two.”

She reached for his hand across the table, brushing the tips of her finger against his palm, “We’ll be fine, love.”

He shook his head, holding her gaze easily, unspoken pain and worry buried in the depths of his eyes, “I don’t want to take that chance, Evie.”

“You’re not leaving.” She insisted, her breath hitching at the very thought of it. 

“Of course not.” He sighed, sending her a tired but reassuring smile, “I just… I refuse to sit idly by when the townspeople show up with torches and pitchforks.”

“What’s a pitchfork?” Henry asked, pulling his attention from the comic book the twins had given him and looking to his mum in question.

She smiled down at him, brushing a wayward lock of hair from his cheek as she spoke, “It’s like a really, really big fork.”

“For giants?” He asked, curiosity shining in his voice as his father chuckled at the question, a welcome reprieve from the tense discussion they’d been having.

“I don’t know baby,” Evie replied with a laugh of her own, pondering the question good-naturedly as he waited expectantly for her verdict, “You’ll have to ask Aunt Luna next time she visits. I bet she could tell you all kinds of stories about giants.” “Why don’t you go play for a bit and then we’ll get you dressed for the snow?”

He all but jumped down from the window seat at her suggestion, happy to be excused as he stopped to ask one more question, “Can we go see Aunt Luna later?”

She smiled back at him, knowing how much he enjoyed his time with the eclectic girl Evie had spent so many years chasing through fields of wildflowers and hunting noxies with, “Maybe not today but soon, I promise.”

Her answer seemed to satisfy him as he scampered off to his playroom, the sound of his firetruck’s sirens drifting lazily through the house as he played. 

“Luna?” Antonin asked, his brow furrowing with vague recognition. 

“Lovegood.” She answered him with a soft smile of her own.

“Pandora’s daughter.” He realized and she watched as he fit the pieces together, “She was the blonde kid in the Department of Mysteries, wasn’t she?”

Evie nodded, “She’s a brave kid.” But they both knew that, “So what do you want to do about the inevitable pitchforks?”

He sighed, a sound that she was becoming more and more familiar to her as the days went on, and collapsed heavily back into the chair, leaning fully into it’s embrace as he spoke, “Ward this place up the fucking arse.”

“It’s already warded.”

He shook his head, “Not nearly enough.”

It was her turn to sigh as she rose from her seat at the table, moving around it to perch upon his thigh, running her fingers through his sleep-tousled waves as she spoke, “We’re not at war anymore, love.”

He pressed a kiss to her exposed shoulder, tugging gently at the sweater that had slid off of it, “We’ll always be at war, Evangeline. People are never going to accept my freedom. They’re never going to be okay with me residing anywhere other than that cell you found me in.”

“You deserve peace.” She whispered, tears slipping from her eyes as he pulled her fully into his lap, wrapping her up in his protective embrace as she continued, “We all deserve a little peace, Antonin.”

“People need someone to hate, someone to fight.” He told her honestly, searching her gaze as if for her own hatred as he continued, “If hating me brings them peace I’m okay with that.” He sobered further, dropping his face to the curve of her neck and nudging at her pulsepoint lovingly, “What I’m not okay with is the possibility of the two of you being harmed because of me.”

***

Antonin knew that he was being overly cautious. But he also knew that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if harm came to either one of the people he loved most in the world. It’s why he hadn’t hesitated to throw himself into the task of strengthening the wards surrounding the little cottage. Henry had followed him around the length of the large property for most of the morning, watching him work with the kind of curiosity only children can have as he asked him all of the questions he could think of, listening intently to every answer he gave him in return. 

It wasn’t until midday that the little boy had disappeared back inside in search of lunch, and though he continued to work on the wards, he could feel Evie’s eyes on him through the kitchen windows as she fixed their son's lunch. He knew that she worried, that she was scared he may slip away in the middle of the night never to be seen again in an effort to protect them. But more than that, he knew she was terrified of losing what was happening between them. Of losing the hope for something beautiful and real. And if he was being truly honest with himself, he knew he was too.

From the very first time she’d set foot in his cell, unafraid to face off with the veteran Death Eater in berating his life choices and demanding that she be allowed to raise his son, he’d known he was in trouble. She was no longer the little kid he’d indulged in pretend tea parties with, or the courageous warrior he’d accidentally cursed in the DoM, she was just a mother willing to do whatever it took to bring her son home and he was utterly captivated by her. 

It had sent him for a loop, being faced once more with the one person he had been tasked to protect. The one person he had failed. He wanted more than anything for her to know of his failure, of how much he regretted his mistake. Hell, he still wanted her to know, to understand how sorry he was. To let him  _ fix  _ it. He just didn’t know how.

He sighed, pushing at his wayward thoughts as he turned back to the wards, readying himself for another round of intertwining his magic with them. He brushed off the exhaustion seeping into his bones, the demand for rest and sleep that his mind screamed back at him. He refused to lay down his wand until he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his family was safe. 

He didn’t hear her approach, the woman who had been haunting his dreams for months now, “You need to rest, love.” She told him softly, a sympathetic frown pulling at her cheeks as he jumped at her voice.

He sighed and turned back to the wards, “Not yet.”

She moved behind him anyways, wrapping her arms around his middle and tucking her nose into the space between his shoulder blades, “Come and rest, Antonin.” She insisted again, her warm embrace enveloping him in a sense of peace as he lowered his own hands to rest atop of hers.

He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the inside of her wrist before he spoke once more, “Only because you’re asking so nicely.”

He could feel her smile against his back before he turned to face her, draping an arm over her shoulder as she led them back towards the kitchen door. He smiled at the sight of Henry already fast asleep on the window seat, tucked in with his blanket and teddy bear against the fluffy pillows.

He watched as Evie gathered him into her arms, settling him against her shoulder as he shed his coat and followed them through the house and up the stairs. He paused in the doorway of the bedroom as she moved through it with their son asleep in her arms. He couldn’t help but be enraptured by her once more as he watched her settle him into their bed with all of the love and familiarity of someone who had done so a million times before. Anyone could see the love she had for Henry and it pained him to know that his son hadn’t always had this, hadn’t always had her. 

He watched silently as she tucked herself in next to him, gathering up a new book to read as he latched onto her hip in his sleep, cuddling up to the woman who had been destined to become his mum. And she was destined to be so, that much had been clear for the moment she’d shown up at Azkaban to ask who she thought was her parents’ killer for permission to do so.

She caught his gaze over the top of the book, her brow scrunching in curiosity in the same familiar way of their son’s, “Aren’t you going to join us?” She asked him quietly, resting the book against her knees as he waited for his decision. 

It was every vision of domesticity he’d ever imagined, the life he’d never thought he’d get to lead lay open before him. He could almost picture it, his life with her. Filled with long days spent chasing children and careers and peace. And long nights spent wrapped up together, loving one another. He faltered in his steps towards her, guilt flaring once more as she watched him approach. 

“There’s something I have to do first.” He told her with a sigh of reluctance, wincing as concern filled her expressive eyes, “I’ll be back soon, I just… I need to handle something.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful?” She asked, her own hesitation shining through the statement as he lowered himself to sit next to her on her side of the bed. 

He reached for her, grasping her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger as she stared up at him in worry, “There’s no danger where I’m going.” He promised her with a reassuring smile of his own, swooping in to capture her lips briefly in a chaste kiss of apology. Recognizing instantly the taste of home she carried with her, the way she melted into him regardless of his own intentions. 

It was only when he broke away from her that she spoke again, “Promise me.” She asked him anyways, her green eyes searching as she clutched at his collar. 

He held her gaze, doing his best to reassure her as he stood once more, “I swear.” He told her evenly, ignoring the way his heart clenched at her need to know he’d be okay. It had been so long since anyone had cared, he almost didn’t know what to do with it. He turned back towards the door anyways, stepping quickly from the room and making his way back out of the house before he could be tempted back into the warm embrace of the woman waiting impatiently for his return. 

He apparated the moment he left the wards, snapping into existence once more in a shadowy graveyard atop a hill far from prying eyes. He’d only been there once before, too afraid to risk it during the war and too guilt-ridden to visit in the days that had followed his release. 

He steeled himself as he approached the stone mausoleum, already regretting his decision to come as he pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped into the shadowy room occupied by two empty caskets. He recognized Evie’s touch throughout the room, from the candles to the flowers and the cushions that rested against the wall, almost inviting him to sit down for a long chat with his oldest friends. But he knew that he was too guilty to receive such comforts. 

So he remained standing, his gaze resting on the inscription in the stone before him, highlighting the dates that haunted him the most as he worked up the nerve to admit to his failings. 

“I broke my promise to you.” He finally confessed, a shudder ripping through him at the weight of the words he spoke and the oppressive cold that seeped through the stone walls, “I couldn’t protect her. I… I failed her.”

His eyes drifted to the window ahead of him as the night he’d cursed her played once more on loop in his mind, he focused instead on the intricate depiction of rose that was etched into the stained glass above their empty resting places. He watched as the muted sunlight of the wintry afternoon cast a kaleidoscope of colors into sharp relief against the weathered stone of the room in which he stood, pushing the pain of his failings from his mind once more as he struggled to own up to his mistakes. 

“I wish I could take it all back.” He admitted into the chilling silence of the room, “I wish my curse had never come into contact with her skin.” He paused, the night he’d hurt her flashing through his mind again, “How can I possibly deserve your daughter? How can I let her love me when I've murdered and tortured others in the name of power and justice and revenge?” 

“How am I supposed to live with her love knowing that she, of all people, should hate me?” He asked the empty caskets that were supposed to be holding his friends, “Why do I get another chance at life when I ended the lives of so many more people more deserving than I am? Why do I get to dream of the future when I stole that very thing from so many others?”

He sighed, knowing better than to expect any answers from an empty tomb and gathered himself together once more, letting a little bit more of the weight of his confessions slide off of him in the cold darkness of the room. He used his wand to conjure fresh blooms for the vases scattered throughout the room. Filling them with dozens of white roses before he turned to leave.

A gust of wind whipped against him as he stepped back into the snowy landscape, the breathy voice of someone long since buried whispering past his ear in the quiet way she’d always spoken. 

**_You are more than enough._ **

He staggered backwards against the door, shaking himself of the delusion as he struggled to regain his breath. 

_ The dead don’t speak. _

He repeated the reminder over and over in his mind as he moved back towards the apparition point. Snapping back into existence outside the little stone cottage as he pushed the words from his mind. He knew better than to believe words whispered by the wind. He staggered through the snow and into the house, shedding off layers of clothing as he moved towards the bedroom. They were both fast asleep when he entered, not even stirring as he moved quietly to the dresser for some sweats, wincing at the loud creak of the drawer as he closed it back and slid into the warm flannels. 

He couldn’t help the smile that threatened to break through as Evie shifted to accommodate him as he climbed in next to her, moving back against him without a moment’s hesitation as he wrapped the both of them up in his arms and allowed sleep to carry them away for a while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know.   
> It's shorter than usual. But I really struggled putting proverbial pen to proverbial paper this week. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope y'all enjoyed it and I promise more is coming soon. I've got through chapter 43 planned out and that's not even near the end of it. 
> 
> Anyways, I'm gonna go crash now and hope for pleasant dreams involving some British hottie instead of the PTSD nightmares I've been plagued with for the past few weeks. 
> 
> I love you guys.


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